


Another Train Coming

by rivers_and_roads



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_and_roads/pseuds/rivers_and_roads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romelza Modern AU. Based on the prompt: “This creep on the train keeps flirting with me and seriously this is really scary would you please play along and pretend to be my boyfriend.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Romelza Modern AU. Based on the prompt: “This creep on the train keeps flirting with me and seriously this is really scary would you please play along and pretend to be my boyfriend.” It was meant to be a one shot, but I just got really into it, so there will be more. I haven't read the books, and I'm on the American schedule so I haven't seen Series 2, so no spoilers for either of those.

Demelza was wearing her headphones.

“Hey there, girlie,” the man said, sliding into the seat next to her. Demelza heard his greeting, despite her music, and spared him a nod and a twitch of the mouth. The man took her acknowledgement as an invitation to go on, and he leaned back in his seat.

“Come here often?”

Not wishing to be rude, Demelza popped one headphone out of her ear and said, “No, not really.” She quirked her lip again, and replaced her earbud.

The man did not take the hint. “Oh? Where are you going?” he asked.

Demelza’s brow furrowed, as she measured her response. “To see a friend,” she replied, leaving her headphones in her ears, as though to signal the end of their conversation. She turned her head to look away from him, feigning an interest in one of the adverts on the train.

The man tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention once again. With increased frustration, Demelza turned back toward him and removed both headphones, meaning to create some finality in their conversation once and for all. “Yes?” she asked, her voice laced with irritation.

“What’s your name?” he asked, falsely emboldened.

Demelza considered that an annoying stranger on the tube didn’t deserve her real name. “Jane,” she told him.

“And what’s your friend’s name?”

“Sarah,” she answered, “not that it’s any of your business.”

“Hey, ain’t no call for that, Janie dear,” the man laughed off her rebuke. “Just showin’ a healthy bout of curiosity. Maybe you and Sarah need some…company. Where are you meeting up? I ain’t got no plans.”

“That’s a very nice offer, but I’m afraid we’ll be meeting our boyfriends,” Demelza replied. She gave him one last furtive glance before resolutely replacing her headphones and angling her body away.

The train stopped and the doors opened to allow more passengers to board. The man started muttering, “I know a lie when I hear one,” he said to the ground. “Don’t need to lie about boyfriends when you’re clearly trying to get rid of me. Could just say so to my face. Don’t know why you thought I was interested, anyway. Why would I wanna fuck you?”

Demelza resolutely maintained her posture, angled away from him. She began to bob her head up and down, as if dancing along to her music.

“I said, why would I wanna fuck you?” He continued, a little louder. He was attracting the attention of others on the train. A man that was standing at the far end perked his head up, and he immediately started walking the length of the car. As the man continued his diatribe, the other man formulated a swift plan.

“Sweetheart,” he said, plopping himself down in the seat next to Demelza. “I got in on the other side, I didn’t even see you.” He pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, gesturing to the man and then fixing Demelza with a look that said “I can get your out of this, if you want.”

Demelza measured his gaze for half a second, and then returned his kiss on the cheek. “Oh my God, that’s so funny. I was just talking about you.” Then she turned to the other man. “This is my boyfriend, John.”

“John and Jane, you expect me to believe that?” the man asked, incredulous.

He jumped in quickly. “What’s that, Jane? You two have been talking about me?” He chucked, trying to lighten the mood and distract the other man from his accusations. “All good things, I hope.”

“Well, I have nothing bad to say about you, John dear. Only, I wonder that you got on the tube just to go one stop?” she hinted pointedly.

The man dove in easily. “Jane, you know what a louse I am. Besides, if I walked the whole way, I’d scuff these new shoes.” He grinned at her as the train came to a halt. “Shall we?” he asked, getting up and extending his hand.

She took it quickly and helped herself up. As they strode off the car, she shot behind her, “Nice meeting you,” before the doors closed. Safely away, she turned toward the man, taking him in for the first time. He was tall, with curly black hair and hazel eyes that were narrowed, searching her face for signs of relief.

“Thank you,” she sighed, releasing a breath that she’d been holding.

“No problem,” he replied. “Are you alright?”

Demelza waved her hand as if it were nothing. “He was a creep, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“On the contrary,” the man replied. “I think any man loudly telling the whole car that you’re a liar and that he didn’t want to fuck you anyway is a pretty big deal. If it wasn’t vaguely threatening, it was at least inexplicably rude.”

Demelza looked embarrassed. “Yeah, well, men,” she said by way of answer. She scrambled to correct herself, “Not that, I mean, not all men – “

“No, of course not all men,” the man answered, “but enough to keep you on your toes. Don’t worry,” he added, “I’m not one of those ‘not all men’ blokes.” He had a bit of a twinkle in his eye. Demelza noticed that they had not moved from the platform, and went to make room for the incoming train boarders.

“I really appreciate it,” she said, looking back up at him once they were free of the crowd.

The man stuck out his hand, “I’m Ross.”

“Demelza.” She smiled.

“Demelza,” he mused. “Now, that’s a unique name. Lovely,” he added, more softly.

She smiled at him again. “Can I repay you properly? This actually was my stop. I was heading to a pub for drinks with a girlfriend. You’d be very welcome,” she added, somewhat shyly.

Ross glanced to the side, making his mind up quickly. “Sure.”

\----

They exited the tube station into the cool nighttime air. “It’s just there,” Demelza said, pointing to the end of the block. They crossed the threshold and took up two seats at the bar.

“What would you like?” she asked as the bartender approached.

“I’ll take a Guinness,” he said good-naturedly. With a smile, Demelza ordered one as well.

“So, your accent,” Ross asked. “Cornish?”

She nodded, “Illugan."

He grinned again. “I spent my childhood not far from Truro.”

“Small world,” she mused, clinking their pint classes together. “My friend’s Cornish as well. She’ll be along soon, I imagine.”

Ross’s face seemed to say “the more, the merrier.” “So, what do you do, Demelza?”

“Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,” she replied. “I’m in school at the moment.”

“Oh?” he asked. “Studying…?”

“Music.” She completed his question for him. “Singing, mostly.”

“Wow.” He looked genuinely impressed. “What’s your favorite genre?”

Demelza mused to herself for a moment. “I’m always loved Cornish folk music. I’d love to bring it to more people’s attention. But I’m getting my classical training right now,” she added.

“Of course,” he nodded, knowingly.

“But what about you?” she changed the subject. She gestured to the messenger bag hung across his chest. “Some sort of business, I’m guessing.”

“You’d guess right,” he answered. “I’m afraid I’m of Cornish mining stock, myself. I’ve been in London looking for investment.”

“Oh – “she started. “So…you don’t live in London?” She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Ross thought he noticed a hitch in Demelza’s voice, but didn’t flatter himself that he’d observed correctly.

“No, but I’m here quite often.”

She brightened considerably. The pub door opened, and Demelza’s eye was drawn to the figure at in the doorway. “Verity,” she waved.

Ross was angled away from the door, but hearing Demelza call her friend’s name, he turned instinctually. “Verity?” he asked, recognizing his cousin. He laughed, “What a small world!”

Ross hugged Verity, then turned to Demelza to explain. “You said your friend was Cornish…This is actually my cousin!”

Demelza received this news in stride, but Verity looked positively confused. “You two know each other?” she inquired.

“There was an…incident on the train here,” Demelza put it delicately. “I thought I’d bring Ross along as a thank you for coming to my rescue.”

Verity took up the empty bar stool beside her, sandwiching Demelza between herself and Ross. “I’ll have a white wine,” she told the bartender.

Demelza tore her attention away from Ross and turned toward her friend. “Dear Verity, how are you?”

“Very well,” she replied. “It’s so funny that you know each other! I guess we’ll all get along swimmingly tonight. That is,” she stopped, “if you’re staying, Ross?”

“I have nowhere else to be,” Ross offered good-naturedly. In truth, he had been headed to his hotel room with plans for a takeaway and whatever was on the telly. Spending time with his cousin and his new acquaintance was a far more interesting prospect.

The three of them decided that it was no good, trying to talk over each other in their seats at the bar, so they moved to a round table and ordered some appetizers to accompany their drinks.

“Ross,” Verity berated him, “I didn’t even know you were in town!”

“My apologies, cousin,” Ross replied, playfully formal. “I’ve just been looking for more investors for Wheal Leisure. My mine,” he added, for Demelza’s benefit.

“Oh, no, Ross. Financial troubles, again?” she asked, but then looked embarrassed to have implicated his money woes in front of Demelza. Ross noticed her embarrassment, and waved it off.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Verity changed the subject. “Demelza, I think I’ve talked to you about Ross before. We grew up together.” She chucked to herself, “I remember one time, he pulled our dog’s tail and the dog kicked him over.”

Demelza covered her mouth with her hands, worried. Verity put her at ease. “Our dog was an Irish wolfhound, and Ross was only…four? It didn’t take much to push him over. Or for him to get back up,” she added.

He laughed. “In the mud, as I recall.”

At that, Demelza started to giggle as well. The bartender brought over another round that they had ordered earlier. Ross raised his glass in a toast, “To the unlikely circumstances that have brought us three together,” he proposed. Demelza clinked her glass first, a knowing look in her eye. Ross returned the look. “I’ll drink to that,” Verity agreed, and they all sipped from their glasses.

Later, Ross excused himself to the toilets. Verity turned to Demelza, “So how exactly did you meet?” she asked, curious.

Demelza played it off as nothing. “Some creep wouldn’t leave me alone on the train ride here, so Ross pretended to be my boyfriend and walked me out. Then I invited him along as a thank you.”

Verity made a disgusted face at the sorry state of affairs for women on public transportation. She shifted gears, “Well, I’m delighted to see my cousin and my friend, both, tonight. We should do it again.”

“I’d like that,” Demelza smiled. Verity turned to Ross, who was just returning from the loo. “Don’t you think, Ross? The three of us should do this again.”

Ross grinned at Demelza. “Absolutely.” He mused for a moment. “I’m in London all week.”

“Oh, Ross, why aren’t you staying with me?” Verity demanded.

Ross shook his head. “Early meetings, various locales. I would have woken you at all hours of the morning. It’s better this way.”

Verity looked ready to reproach him again, but thought better of it. Demelza cut in.

“Shall we do it again on Friday? Surely you don’t have Saturday morning investment meetings?” she asked Ross. He shook his head. “It’s settled then. Soho?” she asked, turning to Verity.

“Sounds perfect.” Ross nodded agreement.

“Well, it’s been lovely, but some of us have classes in the morning,” Demelza explained. “I don’t think I’m likely to run into two creeps in one night,” she joked as Ross felt a sudden stab of conscience.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“Shepherd’s Bush,” she replied. “But there’s no need, Ross.”

“Actually, I’m staying quite near there, so I insist,” he said, glancing at Verity, who chimed in her agreement.

“Well…in that case,” she conceded, trailing off.

Ross kissed Verity on the cheek, and Demelza followed suit.

“Goodbye, my dears,” Verity said as they walked outside, hailing a cab of her own. “See you on Friday!”

Ross hailed a cab for the two of them, and Demelza gave the cabbie the address.

The two of them easily fell into conversation. “So, what’s your favorite thing about mining?” Demelza asked. Ross looked surprised.

“I don’t know. It’s a family business, so it’s not as if I chose it for the love of underground drilling.”

“But you must enjoy it, or why would you keep at it so?” she pressed.

“I do like providing jobs in the community. Yes, I think that’s the very best part.” She smiled at that. “I have people I’ve known since I was a boy depending on me for their livelihoods. It’s a lot of pressure, don’t get me wrong. But yeah,” he sighed, “it’s a nice feeling.”

“I’m sure,” Demelza murmured.

“What classes do you have tomorrow?”

“Oh, just voice lessons,” she replied. “I’m working on an opera piece right now.”

“I know a bit of opera,” he urged, shifting in his seat.

Demelza knew what he was doing. “No,” she playfully swatted at him. “I’m not singing for you, in this cab, in the dark, after a few drinks.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me, luv,” the cabbie piped up. Demelza shot an amused glance at Ross.

“Nope, I’m not doing it.”

“I guess you’ll have to save it for Friday,” Ross conceded. “I’ve sure that Verity will be up for a little karaoke…”

“Oh, Ross!” Demelza protested.

“I won’t hear another word of protest, Demelza,” Ross insisted. “Anyway, it looks as if we’ve arrived.”

Demelza glanced out the window. “Oh.” Her voice fell.

“See you on Friday?” Ross asked, suddenly unsure if his teasing had been well-received. Demelza nodded. He leaned across the back seat and brushed a kiss against her cheek. Demelza’s cheek burned red at his touch.

“Thank you, Ross,” she said seriously. Then her eyes sparkled. “I’ll see you on Friday.” She rose from the cab and walked up to her apartment, turning the key in the lock and letting herself in.

“Where to, sir?” asked the cabbie.

“Covent Garden, if you’d be so kind.”

“That’s a sight away from here, sir. Much closer to where you started.”

“I know,” Ross nodded. “I just had to see my friend home safely, first.”

The cabbie looked at Ross in his rearview mirror, then set off again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Ross, Demelza, and Verity meet up on Friday. Antics ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody who commented and left kudos! You all had such kind things to say. I really hope you like the next installment.

Friday seemed to come much quicker than Ross would have thought. He had had some success with his investment meetings, but he was very much looking forward to a night out with Verity and Demelza. As promised, he met up with them both at a pub in Soho around seven, eager for the night to begin.

The last time he had seen Demelza, her hair had fallen down her back in tousled red curls. Tonight, it was pulled into a sleek bun. Ross considered that both hairstyles looked lovely on his new acquaintance.

“Verity,” he greeted, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Demelza,” he said more softly, but with a twinkle in his eye. He brushed his lips against her cheek, and kept his hand on her shoulder for a moment. “How are my two favorite ladies?”

 “Really, Ross, you’ve met me once,” Demelza chided him.

“You’re friends with Verity, so I know you’re of good stock,” Ross teased. 

“Perhaps this is just a sign that you don’t have many ladies in your life,” Verity teased right back.

Ross looked mollified for a second, then responded, “Like I said, my two favorite ladies.”

The three of them took a seat at one of the tables, once again sandwiching Demelza between the two Poldarks. Ross ordered them a round of drinks. “Tequila?” he asked mischievously.

Verity surprised Demelza with a resounding “Yes, please,” and who was Demelza to argue?

“Looks like we’re getting this night off to a good start,” she replied.

The three of them talked about the week they’d had. Ross had some promising investment prospects. Verity talked about her bakery, where she was rolling out a new spin on a traditional Cornish pasty. Demelza filled them in on her upcoming recital.

“When is it, Demelza? We must come,” Verity insisted, gesturing to herself and her cousin.

Demelza blushed. “Oh, Verity, you don’t have to do that. Besides, it’s not until the end of the semester.”

“Nonsense, dear. I absolutely would not miss it! Nor would Ross, would you?” she asked him. Ross flashed Demelza a crooked grin.

“Well, as I recall, Demelza owes me some karaoke. So, unless she pays up…” he trailed off expectantly.

Verity latched on to ‘karaoke.’ “Why on _earth_ didn’t I think of that before? That would be so much fun! Demelza, do you want to karaoke tonight?” she asked excitedly.

Demelza rose to the challenge. “Will Ross be taking the first round?”

Ross’s face went red, but he pushed through any personal embarrassment in order to secure a serenading session by Demelza. “Sure.”

\----

Verity, Ross, and Demelza found themselves at a late-night karaoke bar, following through on the various challenges that had been issued. Ross was nursing a glass of whiskey, sitting at the bar and turning through the pages of song offerings. Demelza climbed into the seat next to him. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” she teased.

“And miss a rendition by the lovely and talented Demelza Carne? No way,” he replied. “I will find something to sing,” he mumbled to himself.

“A compromise?” Demelza suggested. Ross looked up at her expectantly. “How about a duet?”

“What did you have in mind…?”

“ _Just a small town girl livin’ in a lonely world. She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere_ ,” Ross talk-sang, quietly into the microphone. As Demelza took over the verse, he took a shot of cheap whiskey from the bar top. Onlookers gave him an encouraging cheer.

“ _Just a city boy born and raised in South Detroit. He took the midnight train goin’ anywhere_ ,” Demelza returned in a clear, lovely voice. She earned several whoops and hollers from the crowd. Ross stared at her, his mouth partially open, the recent shot of whiskey to blame for his slow reaction. She walked over to the bar top and took a similar shot, grinned and him, and then grabbed his hand, dragging him back toward center stage. She squeezed his hand as they picked the verse back up, and with Demelza’s beautiful voice to cover his own, he sang a bit more confidently. She smiled at him, appreciating his effort. At the end of the first verse, they heard a resounding whoop from Verity. Several people from the crowd joined in on the chorus, and for the rest of the song, Ross didn’t really have to worry about anyone hearing him. The song came to an end, and the crowd and Ross dropped out, allowing Demelza to finish is her clear, strong voice. Everyone in the bar cheered, and Ross replaced his microphone and moved to give Demelza a congratulatory hug.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Demelza said into Ross’s ear.

“No.” His voice rumbled deep in his throat, and Demelza broke the hug to smile at him. Ross held Demelza’s hand to help her descend the stage steps, and the two of them returned to the table where Verity was sitting.

“That was fantastic!” Verity declared.

“Thanks, Verity,” Demelza accepted her praise. Ross only smiled, gazing at Demelza.

“So, what’s next?” Verity demanded. Ross had an idea.

“Dancing?”

\---

Verity, Ross, and Demelza descended the steps to an underground Soho club. Demelza secretly thanked her lucky stars that she had worn her hair in a bun as she took in the sight of a hundred sweaty dancers. It was quite loud, and she felt Ross speak right into her ear. “Can I get you anything?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she answered. She watched him whisper something similar to Verity, and then slip off toward the bar. Verity and Demelza checked their things at the coat closet, and pushed their way through to the dance floor. Verity had shed her jacket from the pub and karaoke, and was wearing a light sheath dress. Demelza was left only with leather leggings and a peplum top. Ross made his way through the crowd, expertly carrying three drinks. He handed them off, and then the three of them joined the dancing throng.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Ross seemed to be a very good dancer, Demelza mused to herself. She’d been dancing many times with Verity, but she took the time to observe this new Poldark. He moved with the confidence brought on by several drinks, but Demelza sensed something else. An easiness in his movement. He’d had…training, perhaps. She found herself wondering what it would be like to dance something a bit more traditional, with him on her arm.

Not much later, she got her wish. The music shifted from a pounding club beat to a mid-tempo, jazzy standard. Ross offered his hand to Verity, and twirled her around in an easy pattern. _I was right_ , she thought. _He knows what he’s doing_.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ross spun Verity away, off into the dance floor, and replaced her with Demelza. “I couldn’t forget my other favorite lady,” he reminded her, taking her into his arms and easily leading the dance. Demelza herself didn’t have much formal dance training, but she found it easy enough to follow his lead. She thought it was odd that the music had shifted so abruptly, and remarked on it to Ross.

“What happened to the club music?”

“Hmm, couldn’t say,” replied Ross. “Though,” he added, “I can’t say I mind.” Demelza looked up at his face. “I have had a bit of training in this area. It feels much more natural.”

“Oh, I can tell, Mr. Poldark,” Demelza teased.

“Of course, my dancing skill is no match for your singing talent,” he added.

“I thought you were very good!” Demelza protested. “And as for the dancing…” she gestured between them. He swept her hand back into his.

“Now, Demelza, don’t you break the frame!” he admonished, teasingly.

“I guess I need some more lessons,” she shot back.

His voice was surprisingly low and husky as he promised, “Anytime you like.”

The music switched back to club and techno, and Ross let his hands slide from their proper positions to rest on her hips. Demelza found herself looking up at him from under her thick lashes, and noticed a similar look on his face. She swayed her hips from side to side, raising her arms above her head. Ross pulled her closer, until they were practically breathing the same air.

Verity made her way back over to her friend and her cousin. She tapped Demelza on the shoulder. She turned, smiled, and started dancing with her friend. Demelza felt Ross run one more hand down her back, and then he slipped off, back toward the bar.

The three spent the rest of the evening – or rather, the early hours of the morning – dancing to their hearts’ content. As the club shut down, they ventured back out onto the street, the chill in the air noticeable after hours spent in a sweaty dance club.

“It’s awfully late, and we’ve all had a bit too much,” Ross started. “My hotel’s quite close. Why don’t we all crash there?”

Demelza glanced over at him, immediately recognizing that he had been lying about the location of his hotel the other night. Nevertheless, she nodded along with Verity, and the three set off on a short walk to Ross’s hotel.

They arrived, and Ross poured everyone glasses of water. Verity took a seat on the couch, but quickly slouched so that she was more laying - or hanging off - than anything else. Ross and Demelza both took seats on the bed, sipping their water.

“It looks as though Verity has claimed the couch,” Ross remarked. “If you don’t mind, this is a king,” he started. “But I could…”

Demelza knew where he was going with this, and would have none of it. “Ross, I’m not going to banish you to the floor in your own hotel room.”

He flashed her a smile, and then ducked into the bathroom. He returned with a hotel robe in tow. “I promise I haven’t used it. I’m guessing you don’t want to sleep in leather trousers,” he observed.

Demelza was grateful for the offer, and shuffled off to the bathroom to change. She emerged, the bathrobe wrapped securely around her. Ross was already sandwiched into the covers, and Demelza made to join him on her side.

“Thanks for setting us up in your room, Ross,” she said. “And thanks for a truly fabulous evening.”

His eyes were already drooping with sleep, but he turned toward her and placed a kiss on her forehead. “My pleasure.”

\----

Morning broke, but none of them had much chance of being morning people after last night. Thankfully, the hotel windows were equipped with thick curtains, and the three slept blissfully into midmorning. They had neglected to hang a do not disturb sign on the door, however – a fact Demelza became wise to when she heard a tapping noise coming from outside. Springing from the bed, she stuck her head out the door apologetically.

“I’m sorry, we forgot to put up the do not disturb sign,” she explained. The housekeeper nodded understanding and moved to the next room.

Demelza quietly shut the door again, and padded toward the bathroom. She noted that the clock read 10:30. Now that she was awake, there was little chance of going back to sleep. Especially not in Ross’s robe and in Ross’s bed.

She checked her hair in the mirror, completely unsurprised to see that it resembled a bright red bird’s nest. Ross had not bothered to unwrap most of his hotel toiletries, it seemed, so she didn’t think he would mind if she used them.

She did her best to sweep her hair into a messy bun, and cleaned some of the offending makeup off her face. She thought for a second about getting dressed and slipping out of the hotel, back to her flat – but thought better of it. That decision made, she now had to worry about getting her leather leggings back on, and any knowing looks she would get for wearing them in the morning.

Ross heard a soft shuffling, and the sound of the faucet. He blinked his eyes open, blearily taking in his surroundings. Verity was still on the couch, having shifted into a more comfortable position in the night. The other side of the bed was rumpled from where he knew Demelza had been sleeping, but now he heard her moving around in the bathroom. He considered his options for a moment.

He settled on pulling out his phone, which mercifully still retained some battery life, and pulling up the online room service menu. With a few taps of his phone, he ordered three teas, some scones, and a bloody mary. _Hair of the dog_ , he thought to himself, wincing ever so slightly.

Demelza exited the bathroom. “Ross!” she exclaimed in a half-whisper, surprised. Ross offered her a smile and sat up in the bed.

“Shhh,” he reminded her, gesturing to Verity, who shifted in her sleep.

Demelza quietly sat back down on the bed, still in the robe from last night. He showed her his phone, indicating that food was on the way. Demelza quirked her eyebrow at the bloody mary, and Ross considered for a moment before ordering two more, and grinning back at her.

A soft knock came at the door, and Ross rose to answer. As he strode back in carrying the tray, Verity stirred into consciousness. Quickly taking in her surroundings, Verity ran her fingers through her hair and moved to open the curtains. Ross placed the tray in the middle of the king sized bed, and Verity, Demelza, and Ross all sat cross-legged upon it, surrounding the food. Verity murmured her appreciation, going first for the bloody mary. Demelza took a long sip of tea, and hummed with satisfaction.

“Well, my hair looks a fright,” Verity commented. “I must get back to my flat. And, I’ve things to do today, anyway.”

“Well, at least stay and enjoy your food,” he insisted. “Demelza, what are you up to today?” he asked.

“Nothing much,” she said. “Though I had the same thought as Verity. I have to get home and do something about this situation.” She gestured to her face. “And my clothes,” she added, ever so slightly embarrassed.

Ross seemed to realize something. “I do have a pair of sweatpants I could loan you. I must have forgotten about them last night,” he offered sheepishly. He went into the hotel closet to find them, emerging with some dark gray joggers.

Demelza protested, “Don’t you need them for running, or something?”

Ross grimaced, “Not if I can help it.” Demelza smiled at that.

“Not a fan of exercise?”

“One of those necessities of life, I suppose, but not one I particularly enjoy,” he allowed.

“Here, here,” Verity agreed, raising her bloody mary.

The three of them ate their scones and finished their drinks in companionable silence.

“Ross, when are you going back to Cornwall?” Verity asked.

“Later today, actually,” he replied, glancing at Demelza.

“And when will you be back?” Verity pressed.

“Later this month, I think,” he said.

“Well, that settles it,” Verity said. “We’ll both see you then.” She smiled.

“Oh, but Ross, how will I return these?” Demelza asked, gesturing to the sweatpants. 

He waved the thought away, “I can get them from you, then. That way, we _have_ to meet up again,” he added, wiggling his eyebrow at Verity.

She put on mock outrage, “I’m not the one who didn’t say that I was in town!”

\----

Verity and Demelza gathered their belongings and got ready to head back to their respective homes.

“Ladies,” Ross said, dragging out the first syllable, and kissing them each on the cheek. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

Demelza paused as Verity moved to exit the hotel room. “Ross –” she started. His eyes met hers. “Thank you for a great time last night, and putting us up, and…” she trailed off. “For saving me from that horrible creep on the train. I’m really glad I invited you for drinks,” she added, swaying her stance from side to side.

“I suppose we would have met sooner or later,” Ross observed. “But I’m glad it was sooner.” He dropped his voice, like a secret. His eyes crinkled with his smile. Demelza returned his smile, and walked out to meet Verity in the hallway.

“Well, that was fun,” Verity said. “Even if Ross’s couch was not the most comfortable bed in the world. You’ll be alright to get home on your own?” she asked. Demelza nodded.

“Alright, well, I’ll see you next week,” she said, and hailed a cab on the street.

“Bye,” Demelza waved, and walked toward the tube station.

The ride home was uneventful. Demelza put her headphones in her ears, as was her custom, and enjoyed the rush of the train from stop to stop. This time, no one bothered her, and she was left alone with her thoughts. She wondered what she should do about Ross’s sweatpants. She could hold on to them, as Ross had suggested, until he came back into town. She could go home, get changed, and bring them back to his hotel. That is, if she could catch him before he left for Cornwall. But she had no idea when his train left, or when he was checking out. It didn’t seem like the best idea.

She could ask Verity for Ross’s address, and mail them to him. Or, she mused, she could ask Verity for Ross’s address and return them in person, the next time she was in Cornwall. But she was unlikely to be there before Ross was back in London, so she quickly scratched that idea.

_I should probably just do what Ross said_ , she thought. But waiting for him to come back to London felt like a disappointing prospect. Her mind cast back to last night, to the look on Ross’s face after their karaoke session, to the feeling of his hands on her hips, to his crooked smile. She had no problem admitting to herself that she was itching for a chance to see him again. She felt her heart flutter in her chest, and she smiled to herself, realizing that it was a new, though not unwelcome feeling. She decided to ponder this issue some more later, and moved to adjust her music. She leaned back on the train, quietly humming along…

_Just a small town girl…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investors with cold feet? Spring break plans? An unexpected visit? All this and more, tonight in Chapter 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you all enough for your amazing comments and kudos! I'm so glad that people are enjoying the story. People seem to be latching on to the Romelza adorbs-factor - I promise it is in hearty supply this chapter. I hope you like it!!

As promised, Verity and Demelza met up the next week for their usual get-together. The bell to her bakery rang as Demelza crossed the threshold, and Verity looked up from her post, smiling at her friend. It felt odd to Demelza to see Verity and not Ross. _How silly_ , she chided herself. _You’ve met Ross twice, and Verity has been your friend for years_. She pushed the idea out of her mind. Verity quickly shed her apron and brought out a tray with tea and two small pies.

“How are you, my dear?” Verity asked, kissing Demelza’s cheek and taking a seat.

“Lovely. And you?” she asked.

“I’ve no complaints,” she answered. “I feel like there’s been this sudden uptick in business. I can’t think why, but I hope it holds.”

Demelza took a bite of her pie. “Ooh, is it gooseberry? Delicious,” she insisted.

“How are your classes going, my dear?”

“They’re going well, I think. I have a sort of independent study, and I’ve been looking at the Child Ballads –”

Verity gave her a confused look.

“Oh – there are these collections of Scottish ballads, put together by some Harvard scholar. We were learning about it in one of my music history classes,” she explained. “He traveled around Scotland and wrote down the folk ballads he heard. This was in the 1800s, mind you. But I’ve been wondering if anyone’s done the same for Cornwall…”

Verity looked intrigued. “That sounds like the perfect project for you. You could do a bit of digging.”

“It would certainly make a good Master’s thesis…” Demelza said, more to herself than Verity.

Verity looked impressed. “Demelza, are you thinking of getting your Masters’ degree?” she asked.

“Maybe…” She grinned shyly. “It’s just a fancy I had.”

“Well, I think it’s a marvelous idea!” Verity insisted.

Demelza smiled at this expression of approval. “That’s really nice of you, Verity. It’s nice to have someone to run these ideas by. Since, you know, my family’s not much help.”

Verity nodded her understanding. She knew all about Demelza’s family, and their distinct lack of familial regard for whatever Demelza was doing with her life. Verity, having dealt with her fair share of family drama, wasn’t going to let the same happen to her friend.

“Of course, I’m always here to listen, my dear. And I’m so excited for you!” she insisted. “I know you’ll do wonderful things. So,” she shifted gears, “I was thinking it would be nice to invite you to the coast with me in March.”

“Oh?” Demelza asked.

“Yes, my family has a lovely house near the cliffs. I was planning on going anyway, and I know you have spring break so…” she trailed off. “How long has it been since you were last in Cornwall?”

“A while,” Demelza admitted. Both of them knew that Demelza had no great love for her family home.

“Well then, won’t it be nice to visit?” Verity asked. “Oh, we’ll have such fun!” she continued, her eyes shining. “It will be too cold to swim, or course. But the weather is lovely, and the flowers will be starting to bloom. You can meet my brother Francis,” she continued. “And, Ross, if he’s in town.” Verity cast a surreptitious look at Demelza at the last comment. Demelza was looking down at the table, and at the mention of Ross, the corners of her mouth pulled into a smile. Verity, feeling vindicated in her slight suspicions, moved on. “We can shop in town, and I’ll bake something special for you, and we can drink the night away on the patio. Oh, do say yes!” she begged.

Demelza laughed, “Of course! It sounds like a dream. I wouldn’t miss it.”

\----

A few weeks passed, with Demelza and Verity continuing to meet up for their weekly get-togethers. The fact that she kept hanging out with his cousin meant that Demelza hadn’t had the chance to forget about Ross’s promise to visit. However, it seemed that _he_ had. Demelza had given up the thought of asking Verity about it, not wanting to seem overeager. They had only met twice, for goodness sake. She had probably imagined more between them than there actually was. And he didn’t even live in London! Still, she couldn’t help her mind from wandering back to their night out, and imagining a repeat performance.

She had laundered his sweatpants almost at once, upon returning home from his hotel. They were sitting, neatly folded in the corner of her room, waiting to be returned – another reason she hadn’t managed to push him from her mind.  _Maybe he was just being polite_ , an unwelcome thought entered her brain one evening. _Maybe he’s not coming back anytime soon, and if he is, he’s probably not going to meet up with Verity and me again._ Well, she reasoned, Verity was his cousin. So he might spend time with her. But he had no real ties to Demelza. Verity might force him to include her – they were friends – but Demelza didn’t want Ross to be _forced_ into spending time with her.

Demelza found herself pacing in her room – a most uncharacteristic behavior. There was nothing for it, she decided. She wasn’t going to sit there wondering and feeling sorry for myself. Demelza packed up the sweatpants and grabbed some paper to write a note. She surreptitiously sent a text to Verity.

_Hey Verity, could I have Ross’s address? I thought I should mail him back his sweatpants, since it’s been so long._

Innocent. Considerate. No red flags there. Then she set about writing a note to accompany the package.

How to phrase this? It wasn’t that she was giving up hope of seeing him again – quite the opposite. Maybe the return of his trousers would remind him that he’d promised to visit, and chide him for taking so long. She settled for something she hoped was light and casual.

_Dear Ross,_

_I figured you’d be missing your sweatpants – despite your dislike of exercise. Thanks so much for letting me borrow them. I hope you’ll be back in London soon. It was such fun last time._

_Best,_

_Demelza_

Demelza worried her bottom lip. That would have to do, she decided. The rest was up to Ross.

\----

Ross was hard at work on the new investment contracts for Wheal Leisure when he got a phone call.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Mr. Poldark, this is Mary calling from Choake Enterprises. I have an executive waiting on the line for you.”

“Please put them through.”

“Ross, it’s John Treneglos” began the voice on the other end. “I’m just calling to give you a heads up, that some of our upper management are starting to get cold feet over investing in your mine.”

Ross groaned internally. “Can you say who?” he asked.

“A couple of people, but the most important one is probably Choake himself,” the man admitted. Ross didn’t feel surprised. Choake was notoriously stingy with his money, but the majority of the board had voted…Still, being the head of the company meant he could exert his influence, and the paperwork wasn’t finalized yet.

“Have you struck copper yet?” John asked. “That would certainly help sway him.”

“No,” he admitted. “But we have reason for optimism.”

“Well, you might want to think about coming back down to London and meeting with Choake, then.”

“You’re probably right,” Ross agreed. He blew a frustrated breath out of his lungs. “Thanks for giving me the heads up, John.”

\----

Ross quickly boarded the next train bound for Bristol, knowing he’d have to switch lines to get to London. He was in for a long night. He hadn’t brought anything with him to read, and going through his investment papers, with their copperless reports, was even less appealing than staring out the window. But he needed something to pass the time. He rang Verity.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hello, Verity.”

“Well, well, well. Perhaps I should ask for an introduction, since it’s so long since we met.”

Ross groaned. “Yes, I know, Verity. I’m sorry.”

“You said you’d be back in town later this month. And that was last month.”

“Things with the mine have been busy.”

“Is everything going alright?” she asked, concerned.

“Not exactly…”

Verity waited patiently on the end of the line.

“I’m headed to London to try and convince some skittish shareholders not to back out.”

“Oh, Ross, I’m sorry,” she sympathized. “I’m sure you can sway them.”

“One can only hope,” he answered darkly.

“So it’s a last minute trip, then?” she asked.

“Yes” he answered. “I’ll get in early in the morning, and probably leave right after the meeting. I’ve a mine to run, after all.”

“Well,” Verity reminded him, “the next time you’re in town for a more substantial visit, be sure to let me know. Demelza and I have been looking forward to it.”

Ross’s breath caught in his throat at the mention of Demelza. It had been more than a month, yet at the sound of her name his body started to feel inexplicably warm.

“How is Demelza?” he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice. Inwardly, he was kicking himself. It had been so long, she probably had long-since stopped giving him a second thought – if she ever had at all.

Verity smiled on the other end of the line. “She’s doing really well. But we’re both missing you, so hurry back to see us when you can.” Ross brightened considerably at the prospect of Demelza missing him. Of course, it could just be Verity being polite…

“I learned my lesson last time,” he assured her. “I’ll be sure to let you know.” Verity wished him luck with his meetings, and the two said goodbye. With that, Ross settled into his seat, planning to get a bit of shuteye before he transferred in Bristol. He stirred himself a moment later, remembering the light package he’s found delivered to his doorstep as he’d left for the station. The door already locked, Ross had stuffed it in his bag and kept moving. There was no name on the return label, just an address. He opened it, and shook the contents onto his lap.

A note and a pair of his sweatpants fell out. Immediately recognizing them, he grabbed at the note.

_Dear Ross,_ Demelza had written in her curling script. He read the rest of the note, his eyes crinkling at the mention of his dislike for exercise. He saw a repeat of Verity’s assurance that they both hoped he’d be back in London soon, and he started to feel warm once again. He folded up the note and stuck it in his breast pocket, and then truly settled in for a nap.

\----

The next day, Demelza stepped outside of her flat. There was a chill in the air. At the uprising of an unexpected breeze, she wrapped her scarf more securely around her neck and red mane. She started to walk down the street, when suddenly she heard a voice call out, “Demelza!” She whirled on the spot, and was surprised to see Ross Poldark half-jogging down the street to catch her.

“Ross!” she exclaimed in surprise. “What – what are you doing here?”

Ross looked embarrassed. “It’s totally by chance, I swear. I got called into London last night. I was only planning on being here for a day or so. So it’s not as if I was ignoring you and Verity,” he added.

Demelza felt her cheeks go red. “Oh, well, don’t feel obligated to me, Ross,” she said, brushing it off. “It’s not as if we know each other very well.”

“But I wanted to see you,” Ross insisted. She could see from the look in his eye that he meant it, and she felt a bit taken aback at the prospect, though not at all unhappy with it. “I just got done with a meeting, and I was sort of close to your flat, so I thought I would just wander over and see if you were in,” he continued. “But do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“Not really. I was just heading to a coffee shop. You could come, if you want,” she added.

He nodded enthusiastically. They started walking in the direction of the café.

“So…what does ‘sort of close mean,’ because you’ve been known to fib about that before,” Demelza ventured, in a tone that she hoped struck the right balance between teasing and matter-of-fact.

Ross looked confused.

“As I recall, you insisted on seeing me home the night we met because your hotel was close by.” Realization started to dawn upon his face. “But we went to your hotel the other night, which was nowhere near my flat.”

Ross looked sheepish. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safe,” he admitted.

Demelza was certainly not upset with that prospect. “Well, it was very good of you.” She smiled.

When they arrived at the café, they snagged a quiet table in the corner and nursed their drinks, catching up on the last few weeks.

“So,” Demelza said, picking up an earlier thread of conversation, “you were called into a last minute meeting. What kind?”

“Well, it was sort of a follow up to one of my meetings from last time,” he explained. “Some of the upper management were on board, but others needed quick convincing before the end of the quarter.”

“And did you? Convince them, I mean.”

“Hard to say,” he admitted. “They’ll let me know when they’ve made a decision. But enough about me. What have you been up to lately?” he inquired. “How’s your recital shaping up?”

“Oh, good I think,” she answered. “Not much to report there. I’ve just been keeping my head down and focusing on school. Although…” she began. “I have been thinking of going to graduate school.”

“But that’s amazing news!”

“You think so?” she inquired shyly.

“Of course! What would you do, exactly?”

“Well, it’s funny you should ask…” she trailed off. Ross looked at her expectantly, so she continued. “It was sort of you who gave me the idea…” she said, more to the table than him, color rising in her cheeks.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Oh?”

“Yeah…” she continued. “I was thinking of doing a Master’s thesis on Cornish folk songs.” She glanced up at him. His voice grew softer.

“Well doesn’t that sound like the perfect project for you.”

The next hour passed quickly, as they talked of everything from Ross’s sweatpants –

“Thank you, by the way”

– to Demelza’s visit to the coast with Verity in March –

“Will you be home, then?”

“I expect so.”

Demelza noticed that it was getting quite late. “Ross, didn’t you say you were heading back on the evening train?” she asked.

Ross glanced at his watch and made a snap decision. “I’m actually not going back until tomorrow. I can just stay with Verity.”

Demelza smiled. “Or me,” she offered, and then felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she realized what she had unwittingly implicated. “I mean –” she tried to explain. Ross smiled understanding at her, and she trailed off.

“It’s a very nice offer, but I wouldn’t dream of imposing. My cousin has been hounding me to visit her enough, as it is.”

After a while, it grew dark outside. “I should probably head back to my flat,” Demelza explained.

“I’ll walk you,” Ross insisted.

They set an easy pace, the street illuminated by the warm glow of the street lamps and the silvery glow of the moon. Being winter, it wasn’t that late yet, but the lack of sun lowered the temperature considerably. When they got to Demelza’s door, she asked, “Do you want to come in for a minute? You can warm up?”

“Sure,” he agreed, smiling as they stepped through the threshold into her flat.

Demelza’s living room didn’t seem to realize that it was winter outside. It was painted with bright, sunny colors, and she had a few choice bunches of flowers scattered about the room. Ross eyed it appreciatively, then turned his gaze to appreciate Demelza even more so.

“Can I get you anything?” she called as she headed toward the kitchen. “I know we just came from a café, but…”

“Um, whatever you’re having,” he answered.

“Well I was having a roasted chicken and a layer cake,” he joked.

“Well in that case…” he asserted immediately, moving to join her in the kitchen. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, Ross, I was only joking,” she continued, as he entered the room. He leaned against the counter next to her, and she mirrored his stance.

“You know, I don’t think I have your phone number,” he remembered, pulling out his mobile. He handed it to her expectantly, and she programed it into his contacts. She handed it back to him, and he made a show of texting…someone. Her phone buzzed.

_Hi!_ read the message.

“Not one for emojis?” she teased.

He immediately sent her a smiley faced emoji. Then a carrot. Then a shoe.

“I’m rubbish at this.”

She laughed heartily. She sent him back a winky face. _If he’s rubbish at this, he won’t know the difference_. And a heart eyes emoji. “Oops, slipped,” she lied. He grinned at her.

“When will you be back in town?” she asked. “For real, this time.”

He held her gaze. “Soon. I promise.”

“Good,” she answered softly.

Loathe as he was to do so, Ross knew that if he wanted Verity to put him up, he should get to her house soon (and tell her he was coming at all). He made his excuses to Demelza, who was very understanding.

“It was really nice of you to come looking for me,” she said. “A lovely surprise. I hope your investor troubles work themselves out.”

Ross glanced off to the side. “Me too.” He moved to kiss her on the cheek, and lingered for a bit longer than one would in polite society. “Ms. Carne,” he rumbled deep in his throat, playfully formal.

“Mr. Poldark,” she answered, miming a curtsy. Her eyes sparkled. Ross couldn’t help himself. He kissed her cheek once more, met her eyes, and then strode toward the exit. She watched from the door as he turned the corner, and the two of them waved once more. She turned back into her flat and gave the slightest of giddy dances. She smoothed the hair off of her face and rested her hand on the cheek he had kissed, covering part of her smile with her palm. She’d never be able to pull off playful indifference now…nor would she want to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing George Warleggan, Ruth Treneglos, and a blue dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, your amazing comments and kudos are spoiling me (but please don't stop!). I must say, the comments are really pushing me to write faster, and you are all so kind. I really really hope you like the next chapter. <3

As Ross turned the corner, out of Demelza’s sight, he shook his upper body out and released a quivery breath. There was a lightness to his step and a contented smile on his face as he headed toward the tube station. He texted Verity that he’d be over soon – he assumed she’d have no objection. Half an hour later, a delighted Verity greeted her cousin on her front stoop.

“Ross!” she exclaimed, hugging him. Then she ushered him inside.

“How did the meeting go?” she asked, as if she were fearful of the answer.

He side-eyed her, and then requested, “Another topic, if you please.”

She humored him. “Why did you decide to stay the night?”

There was a glint in his eye, and his gaze darted to the ground. “I didn’t fancy another overnight train ride, or the transfer in Bristol at God knows what hour.”

“But why did the meeting go so late, if you got in this morning?” she pressed.

“I…did a few other things afterwards,” he hedged. Verity looked at him strangely, sensing the shift in his voice. Ross buckled under her gaze. “What? I stopped by Demelza’s house,” he admitted. The look of _delight_ on Verity’s face was enough to force his eyes to the ground again, but he relaxed his mouth into a now seemingly perpetual smile.

“ _And…?_ ”

“We…went out for coffee and just caught up. It was fun,” he added simply. “I take it you’re pleased?”

Verity nodded vigorously.

“My God, Verity, was it that obvious?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “You’re both smitten.” Ross raised an eyebrow at her. “Or at least, she _was_. But you took your time coming back, and it’s not as if I was there today, to watch and observe.”

“ _Don’t_ say anything to her.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she promised, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “When are you seeing her again?”

“I don’t know…I have to go back to Cornwall in the morning.” Verity _tsk tsk_ ed him. “I know, I know. I’ll…figure out something.”

“Well, do you _have_ to go back in the morning?”

“Probably. Why?”

“I was just thinking. You know Francis’s friend, George?”

Ross had heard _of_ George, but never met him.

“He spends most of his time in London now. Maybe you could meet with him. About your investments.”

Verity saw on his face that Ross wasn’t opposed to the idea.

“I could call Francis in the morning, and he could set something up for you while you’re still in London. Wheal Leisure can wait another day, can’t it?”

“I suppose.”

“And then you could see Demelza again…” She smirked.

Ross rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

\----

Demelza woke lazily around midmorning. She couldn’t quite decide what to wear, what with the weather, so she opened her door to get a feel for it. On her welcome mat sat a vase of flowers. She felt her stomach flip oddly as she took in the sight, and she immediately scooped them up and took them into the warm indoors.

They were brightly colored, in a tall vase with a satin ribbon tied around it. Demelza saw that the card was printed, and there was a delivery notice attached; she moved to inspect it more closely.  

_Dear Demelza,_

_I hope these will match the other flowers you have in your flat. Thank you for a delightful afternoon. I’ll be in town a bit longer than I thought – I hope we can do it again sometime soon. If not, give me a ring if you’re ever in Cornwall._

_~Ross_

Demelza strode over to place the vase on her dining table. She unwound the ribbon tied around it, and tied it around her head. When she was little, her mother had often tied up her hair like that, and she remembered it fondly. Demelza worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She wondered how best to respond… Demelza settled for texting Verity.

_Hi Verity! Ross mentioned that he’s in town longer than expected. Should we all three fulfill our promise to get together?_

Upon sending the text, she quickly flipped her phone out of her hands and onto the couch, as if to say “It’s out of my hands now,” turned toward her bedroom and strode away. She immediately regretted the motion, as she couldn’t play music on her phone while getting dressed, as was her custom. So she hummed to herself and dressed quickly, willing herself to ignore her phone as long as possible. When she was finished, she grabbed up her phone and immediately checked the screen. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the message,

_Of course! I’ll make reservations for dinner tonight. Can’t wait!_

Then she steeled herself to be any kind of productive until then. It seemed…unlikely.

\----

Ross sat in the lobby of an imposing office building. “Mister Poldark?” the secretary asked from behind the desk. He nodded. “Mr. Warleggan will see you now.”

Ross was ushered into George Warleggan’s corner office. Behind the desk sat – no lounged – a man with coifed hair and a slight smile on his lips, but not a congenial one – more like a big cat sizing up its prey.  

“Ross,” he greeted, “we meet at last.”

Ross had a seat across from him. “George,” he returned.  

“So, Wheal Leisure,” George began, jumping straight in. “My good friend Francis says you’re looking for…investment?”

“Possibly,” Ross allowed. “Is mining your usual investment?” he asked, guarded.

“Well,” George began suavely, “I can’t say that we have a _usual_ investment. These days, it’s all about diversifying, isn’t it?” Ross raised his eyebrow at him.

He continued, “I fancy we have our toe dipped in a bit of everything in Cornwall, if I’m honest. Surely you can see the business advantage in that?”

“Well, if you’re already in Cornish mining, why would you be interested in such a small start-up as mine?” Ross countered.

“True, I am invested in Grambler. And I was in Wheal Reath, before she closed.”

Ross’s eyes shot up at the mention of Wheal Reath. George seemed to notice Ross’s sudden distress.

“It was a nasty business. Poor Lord Bassett.” Ross nodded, as one does, and George didn’t seem keen to push the subject. But now Ross was especially wary. He’d heard the gossip about town, that Lord Bassett had shot himself because of financial worries. Francis’s friend, or not, could he really trust this George character with his own struggling mine?

“So,” George began again, “I’m prepared to offer you a rather substantial loan, at a very good rate, I assure you.”

Ross quirked his lip, as though considering it, but remained silent. George felt uncomfortable in the silence – and George could never stand to be made to feel uncomfortable.

“How much capital would you require?”

“Well, George, I really couldn’t say at this time. I have a few balls up in the air, as it were. And I’m waiting to see what happens with those at the moment.”

“Now Ross,” George began matter-of-factly. “Francis has told me a fair bit about your mine. I should think this offer, especially given the friendship between our families, would be just what you needed.”

“I’ll think on it,” Ross assured him.

“You should be biting my hand off,” George said jokingly.

“May yet do so,” Ross allowed darkly. “It was good of you to meet with me George. I appreciate your time. But I am afraid I’ve other engagements.”

George nodded understandingly.

“Well, do let me know if you need any other information to make a decision.”

\----

Ross left the meeting and found a text from Verity.

_I made dinner reservations for 6:30. Demelza’s coming too._

Shaking off the realizations and emotions of his meeting – _there’s no way I can do business with George_ – Ross set to formulating a plan for this much more interesting prospect. There was nothing he could do about his clothes, as he hadn’t packed for his extended stay in London. He’d already sent Demelza flowers. He suddenly felt terribly nervous. He shook himself internally, and headed toward the tube station.

The next thing he knew, he was knocking on Demelza’s door again. The timing worked itself out, such that he hoped he was arriving on her doorstep around the time she’d be stepping out. Sure enough, Demelza opened the door, a curious look on her face. “Ross!” she declared, surprised. Ross’s face split into a grin. Demelza scrambled for a witty follow-up. “Twice in as many days, I must be popular.” She noted snowflakes in his curly hair, and a brightness in his eye – no doubt brought on by a combination of the chilly air and the exercise of getting to her door. He looked like he’d stepped out of a scene from a sodding romantic comedy, and Demelza silently cursed him.

“Only with me,” he replied. She feigned outrage. “And Verity,” he supplied. “I came to see if you needed an escort to dinner. I know public transport can be a bit dodgy.” He hoped that he was hitting a joking tone in his reference to their meeting, even if the circumstances had been less than ideal.

“Okay,” she allowed. “But, I’m not quite ready. Why don’t you come in?”

Ross stepped back into the now-familiar flat, immediately noticing his flowers on her dining table. The ribbon tied around the vase was missing, however, and he glanced over at Demelza to notice it was tied in her hair. He grinned while she wasn’t looking.

Meanwhile, Demelza’s heart was beating at breakneck pace. The last thing she needed when getting ready for this highly-anticipated dinner with _Ross_ was him waiting in her living room, before and after shots perfectly filed away in his mind. Not that that would have mattered to Ross, but in this exact moment it seemed very important to Demelza.

“I’m sorry, I should have timed it better,” he apologized, as though he sensed her distress. Demelza immediately mellowed.

“Oh, no Ross, I really appreciate it. Um, I’ll just be a moment.” She excused herself into her bedroom.

Demelza surveyed her reflection in the mirror. The ribbon, she knew, would have to come out. But her hair seemed to be behaving itself today, mercifully. Judging by the snowflakes still clinging to Ross’s curls, she would need a thicker coat. And she hadn’t changed yet. She stared at herself in the mirror, willing herself to relax.

She quickly pulled on a blue-green frock and a long, warm jacket. Then she stepped back out into the living room.

Ross looked up from his seat and immediately smiled. “Ready?”

She nodded, a matching smile creeping onto her face.

\----

They met Verity outside of the restaurant. The girls hugged. Inside, the host led them to their table. Demelza wondered at the interior – it was a tad fancier than she’d anticipated. The girls removed their coats, and Ross caught himself staring at the blue-green frock that seemed to float off of Demelza – and, of course, he was staring at Demelza herself.

Verity side-eyed him, and then supplied, “You look lovely tonight, my dear.” Ross nodded his agreement, and Demelza blushed prettily before taking a seat.

“So do you, Verity, as always,” she replied. “And Ross, not so bad,” she teased.

“Even if you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday,” Verity joined in. “If you hadn’t stayed with me, I’d accuse you of the walk of shame.”

“If you two would stop ganging up on me,” he replied good-naturedly, “we can order.” He glanced pointedly at his menu.

Demelza took a look at the prices and inwardly cringed.

“It’s all on me, of course,” Ross added. “I’m taking care of my two favorite ladies tonight.”

“As well you should,” Verity jumped in. “Really, Ross, you’ve ignored us long enough.”

“But, you two have taken matters into your own hands, I hear. What’s this about a trip to Cornwall for spring break?”

“Well,” Verity began, glancing at Demelza, “Demelza has spring break in March, so we thought we’d have a girls’ trip to the coast.”

“You should stay at Nampara,” Ross offered. “It’s closer to the coast, and cozier. Of course, I’m biased,” he admitted. Verity met Demelza’s eye, who quickly agreed.

Just then, some familiar faces stopped by their table.

“Ross!” declared the woman. “Oh, and Verity, how nice to see you.”

“John, Ruth,” Ross greeted them. He turned to introduce Demelza. “This is a friend of Verity and me, Demelza Carne.”

Demelza rose to shake Ruth’s hand across the table, and Ruth accepted it somewhat haughtily. Demelza sat back down, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, how do you know each other?”

Ross looked at Verity, as though unsure how to reply. Verity stepped in easily, “Demelza is a friend of mine, and I brought Ross into the mix while he was in town.”

Ruth’s face relaxed, as though she realized that Demelza was there as a sort of afterthought. Demelza’s discomfort only grew. Ross glanced at Demelza out of the corner of his eye.

“John, we should ask to be seated near the Poldarks, so we can catch up,” Ruth told her husband, gesturing to a nearby table. John nodded at Ross, having spoken to him on the phone and spent the day with him at the meetings at Choake Enterprises. “Really, I’m sure it’s no trouble,” she continued. “Your firm has dealings with the restaurant, doesn’t it?” John looked ready to do his wife’s bidding, when Ross took matters into his own hands.

“So sorry!” he said loudly, holding up a finger to the Trenegloses and putting his phone to his ear. “Yes?” His face grew serious. He pulled a pen from his jacket and started scribbling some notes. He was nodding, umm hmming, and narrowing his eyes as he wrote further. “Ok, thank you for telling me.” He turned to Verity and Demelza.

“I’m so sorry, something’s come up. I’m not sure I can do dinner tonight.”

Verity knew his game. “Oh, no, Ross. We couldn’t stay without you. You’ll be headed back to my flat for your things? We’ll come and see you off.” Demelza, meanwhile, was bewildered.

“John, Ruth, I’m so terribly sorry. I fear your efforts,” he gestured toward the nearby table, “will be wasted. I really must be off.”

Ross rose from the table, extending a hand to Verity to help her up. He turned to Demelza and offered the same, squeezing her hand to indicate that an explanation was forthcoming. Demelza trusted him, and honestly, was glad to leave the appraising eye of Ruth Treneglos.

Ruth, meanwhile, was left with a startled expression and the distinct impression that she’d been brushed off. She wasn’t about to let on about it to John, however, who seemed to accept Ross’s behavior as characteristic rather than a little too convenient to be true.

When the three of them exited the restaurant and were safely away from the doors, Ross and Verity’s eyes met, and they both burst out laughing. Verity turned to explain to Demelza.

“John and Ruth are just…the _worst_ ,” she explained, still giggling. “Quick thinking Ross. Believe me, dear, you would not have enjoyed a dinner seated across from those two.” Demelza accepted this change of plans easily, although she couldn’t help feeling that their sudden escape from the Trenegloses might have been a bit uncalled for. Ross glanced over at Demelza.

“We could get some street food,” he suggested.

“In winter?” Verity protested.

Ross looked at Demelza again, his eyes sparkling, willing her to agree. Demelza linked her arm with her friend.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

\----

Twenty minutes later, the three of them were sat on a bench eating kebabs; Demelza, of course, was sandwiched between the two Poldarks. Though it had taken some coaxing, once Verity agreed, she had the best recommendation – being in the food industry herself. The three were laughing and talking. Ross made a truly horrible pun, bringing a pained expression to Verity’s face – but Demelza’s peal of laughter rang out immediately, echoing against the stone walls nearby. Ross didn’t see Verity’s grimace, but threw his arm around Demelza as she laughed, joining her.

“Ooooh, you know what we should do?” Verity submitted. “When we’ve finished, we should play pool!”

Ross’s face shot up. He captured Demelza’s gaze, and the two silently communicated about the idea. Demelza turned to Verity and nodded enthusiastically.  

\----

Verity, Demelza, and Ross found themselves in the nearest establishment that offered pool. The game was a particular favorite of Ross’s, and Verity had been known to take up the cue, but he hadn’t the slightest idea about Demelza. He could only assume that the two friends played together in London.

Standing next to Verity, he inquired as such. “Do you and Demelza play pool together?”

“Demelza’s never played pool in her life,” Verity answered. Ross narrowed his eyes. “I guess you’ll have to teach her!” she declared, and ran off to get some drinks for all of them.

Demelza picked up a pool cue and lined it up, leaning over the table resolutely. She glanced back at Ross, laughed, and said, “This is how they do it in films, right?”

“It looks like you don’t need any help at all,” he grinned appreciatively.

“You just want to win,” she accused. She withdrew the pool cue and leaned against it, striking another film-like pose. Her eyes issued a challenge. Ross skipped over and raised his own cue, demonstrating with his own cool guy demeanor. Demelza stuck her tongue between her teeth as she watched him, and quirked an eyebrow when he sunk a shot.

“So this is your game, I take it?”

“I may or may not have been playing pool since I was eight,” he answered, quirking his eyebrow back at her.

“Unfair!” she protested, throwing her hands in the air. “I won’t play against the ringer.”

“What if you and I team up against Verity?”

In answer, Demelza scrunched up her face adorably, and Ross had the fight the urge to double over laughing. Just then, Verity reappeared with drinks. Ross informed her of the “teams,” and Verity equitably agreed that it seemed a fair match up of skill. Then she rolled her eyes as Ross stood behind Demelza, helping her line up the first shot.

\----

It was several games later, and Verity and Demelza had both held their own. Still, it was getting late. Verity’s brain shifted into overtime as she tried to think of a way for Ross and Demelza to find themselves alone. It was a tall order – Ross was staying at Verity’s flat, for goodness sake. Still, Verity’s flat was in Hammersmith, so all three could travel most of the way together.

Ross and Demelza agreed that it was time to head to their respective homes. They all three boarded the train together, their faces warm from the alcohol, whipping winter wind, and laughter that had accompanied their pool tournament. On the train, Verity sneakily took the seat behind Demelza, leaving the aisle seat next to her free. Ross didn’t have to look at Verity to know what she’d done, and he took up his place readily. Every time someone passed by in the aisle, Ross leaned in to make room for them, invading Demelza’s personal space in a way that was not strictly necessary.

In the end, Verity couldn’t think of a good reason to split off from them, so she suggested that the Poldark cousins drop Demelza off at her door. As they exited the tube, Verity made a show of recalling something.

“Oh, Ross, I just remembered. I have to get something for work.” Without allowing any space for protest, she drew Demelza into a hug. “Ross can drop you off at your door, and meet me at that shop on his way back.” She gestured to a 24-hour Boots down the road.

“O-okay,” Demelza managed, somewhat taken aback. Ross was almost glaring at Verity; she was being far too obvious. Thankfully, Demelza seemed oblivious to her intentions.

“Shall we?” Ross gestured toward Demelza’s flat. She tilted her head to the side, thoroughly confused, and the two set off again. They soon fell back into conversation.

“I can’t remember when I last had such a good time.” She laughed.

“Neither can I,” Ross agreed.

Snow started falling again as they made their way to Demelza’s door. Demelza looked up at the sky and smiled appreciatively. Then she brought herself back down to earth with a disappointing prospect.

“I imagine you’ll be going back to Cornwall tomorrow,” Demelza started. Ross nodded. “When will we see you again?” she asked, still couching her words in terms of her and Verity.

“Probably when you come to the coast for spring break.”

Demelza nodded slowly, and started humming absentmindedly.

“What’s that? One of your folk songs?”

Demelza looked surprised, as if she hadn’t realized she was humming aloud. She involuntarily stopped the slow walk to her door – neither was yearning to cut the night short.

“What are the words?”

Demelza began shyly. _Memories like voices that call on the wind, medhel an gwyns, medhel an gwyns_.

“You have such a beautiful voice,” he told her, his eyes drilling into hers. Demelza made as if to brush off his compliment. “And you’re beautiful,” he added. Demelza looked up at him, unsure whether to believe what she’d just heard.

“Thanks, Ross,” she said, feeling the air go out of her lungs as he stared at her so intensely.

Ross’s eyes darted to her lips. He moved his face incredibly close, his nose brushing the side of hers, waiting just a moment. Demelza’s lips were parted in surprise, so when he closed the distance between them, he was met with her warm breath, and he caught her upper lip between his. Demelza immediately closed her mouth over his. His hand moved up to cradle her head, and he lightly wove his fingers into her hair. Demelza opened her mouth to kiss him again. Ross’s other hand came to rest on her hip, drawing her closer.

 After a moment, they broke away. Demelza stared up at him, her eyes wide. A tiny, irrational part of her wondered if he regretted kissing her just now. The corners of Ross’s mouth tugged into a shy smile. He moved his face ever so slightly towards hers, watching her eyes, and this time Demelza closed the distance, carding her hand through his thick curls and sighing against his lips.

When their kiss broke, Ross rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing with a strange sort of steadiness. _It felt like coming home._ Finally, the two of them blinked their eyes open to find identical, nervous smiles on each of their faces. Ross involuntarily licked his lips.

 “So, what does this mean?” Demelza asked, still unsure of her place.

Ross’s eyes darted to the ground, and he threw caution to the winds. “I _adore_ you.”

Demelza’s face split into a dazzling smile. He held her eyes seriously.

“I’ll see you in March?”

She nodded quickly, blowing out a shuddering breath. It was Ross’s turn to split into a smile, and he cupped her cheek, kissing her swiftly once again. “I’ll see you soon. Stay posted for more poor emoji use,” he teased. Demelza swatted playfully at his shoulder, and he seized her hand. Demelza thought to herself that he looked like an eighteenth century gentleman when he raised her knuckles to his lips and brushed a kiss against them. “Ms. Carne,” he echoed their parting from the night before. Then he turned and walked back toward the tube station, and back to his waiting cousin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long distance is hard to do, but our lovesick puppies certainly manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, the story is building to Nampara Spring Break, but we couldn't just skip straight there! As usual, I am so so loving all of your amazing comments and kudos, and I can't thank you enough. I'm so glad that people are sticking with the story and still enjoying it. I look forward to hearing what you think of this latest chapter!

Two days later, Demelza and Verity got together at Demelza’s flat for a relaxed night of wine drinking and chick flicks. The night had been scheduled long ago, but recent events had increased Demelza’s anticipation, which she felt to be a bit unfair to her friend. Honestly, Demelza was dying to tell Verity about Ross – but she didn’t know if Verity already knew, or if she would receive the news well. And they weren’t getting together just to gab about guys. Especially her cousin! Still, she had to scratch the itch, or she’d be antsy all evening. She tested the waters.

“Have you heard from Ross?” she asked shyly.

Verity knew what she was getting at. When Ross had returned to the pharmacy to retrieve Verity, she had told him in no uncertain terms, “I don’t want to know.”

Ross had replied, “Good, I don’t want to tell you.” But he was grinning. And Ross knew that Verity got the gist.

In fact, Verity had much preferred a girly chat with Demelza to a slightly awkward conversation with her cousin.  

She turned toward Demelza, wedging her feet under her legs on the couch, perfectly poised and ready to receive and analyze gossip. She smiled encouragingly at Demelza, and then asked in a knowing way, “…what happened with you two?”

Demelza blushed and looked down at her lap. “So you know?”

“No, I don’t. I _suspect_. But I told Ross that I didn’t want any details. This is best friend talk, not cousin talk.” She gestured between them.

Demelza took a moment to let the news bubble up inside her before bursting out, “We kissed!”

Demelza looked positively radiant in her excitement, and Verity split into a smile. “Oh, my dear, I’m so happy for you. You really do like him?”

Demelza nodded vigorously. “I mean, I’m not gonna get all weird about your cousin to you,” she giggled. “But yeah, he’s…amazing.”

“Well, I will take some credit,” Verity asserted. Demelza gave her a questioning look. “Oh, Demelza, it was obvious he crazy about you…I just gave him a little help.”

“I feel like I don’t want to know,” Demelza joked. “But thanks, all the same.”

The two shared the companionable silence for a moment. “Back to the film?” Verity asked. Demelza nodded, and the two settled in for their customary wine and period drama.

\----

Later that night, after Verity had left Demelza’s flat, Demelza sat on her bed, staring at her phone. She hadn’t heard from Ross since their kiss, and she was determined not to make a thing of it. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, wondering what to do, but she didn’t have to worry for long. As if on cue, her phone lit up with an incoming call from a certain Poldark.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice too loud in her own ears.

“Hi,” Ross replied.

 “Hi,” she replied breathlessly.

Ross though about teasing, “I already said that,” but decided against.

Demelza could hear the smile creeping into his voice as he asked, “How are you?”

“Better, now,” she replied coyly. “And you?”

“I could say the same,” he answered, eyes crinkling.

“What have you been…doing?” she asked, unsure how to start their conversation.

Ross cast about for something interesting to tell her. “I’m afraid that I’m a dull creature these days,” he admitted. “You are currently providing the only entertainment in my life.”

“The _only_ entertainment,” she asked, incredulous. “How can that be? That seems like an awful lot of pressure…” she asserted, half teasing but half serious.

“Hardly,” he answered quickly. “You could talk about grass growing or paint drying and I’d be interested.”

“Shouldn’t you be entertaining me?” she bantered on.

“How do you mean?”

“I should think you should be making plans for when Verity and I visit.” As she said it, she twisted her bedspread in her fingers.

“What would you like to do?”

“No idea. Whatever you recommend.”

“Very well,” he grew mischievous. “In that case, you can treat Verity and I to a two hour, one-woman production of _Les Miserables_. Every night.”

“Always assuming I even know _Les Mis_ ,” she accused.

“You just called it _Les Mis_. You know it.”

“Dammit,” she swore under her breath. Ross laughed softly.

“And how are you, today?” he let her off the hook. “What did you get up to?”

“Um, Verity and I got together to watch a film.” She paused for a second, thinking of her conversation with Verity. “Ross – ” she started.

“Yes?” he urged her along.

“I’m just…curious. Did you say anything to her about…us?”

“About the other night, no,” he hedged. “But, you know Verity. She could kind of tell what was going on.”

“Oh.” She waited. “She said she ‘helped you.’”

“Ummm…” Demelza waited again. He sighed. “I told her she was being too obvious. When she…snuck off so we’d be alone.”

“My, my Verity. Quite presumptuous,” Demelza teased.

“She might have mentioned something about you being ‘smitten.’”

“Oh, Ross!” she protested. But it was absolutely true. And they both knew it.

“I certainly was,” he said softly. On the other end of the line, Demelza’s face broke into an even wider smile, if that was possible. It wasn’t like he hadn’t admitted as much, already. But the revocalization of his feelings washed a warm, safe feeling over her. Ross let his words hang in the air for a moment.

“I hope you’ve had no more trouble on the train,” he teased.

“No,” she answered. “I _can_ take care of myself, you know.”

“Quite,” he agreed. If Demelza could see him now, she’d see his eyes and brows scrunched up, and his head nodding as though humoring a dog or a toddler. In the best way. “I just got on the train, saw a beautiful girl giving some creep what-for, and I seized the opportunity to pretend to be her boyfriend.”

He’d meant it lightly, jokingly, flirtatiously. Demelza knew what he meant. But still, at the word ‘boyfriend,’ Demelza internally bristled. Was Ross her boyfriend now? Surely it was too early. They’d kissed once – well, three times. They lived six hours away from each other. But – she was visiting his house for a week in March. And he’d said he adored her…

While doing all this pondering, she’d fallen unintentionally silent on the phone.

Ross ventured again. “I hope this isn’t weird to say, but it’s only been two days and I already…really miss you.”

“What are we?” she blurted out.

“Together?” he asked hopefully.

She smiled. “Yeah.” A moment. “Good.”

\----

In Truro, Ross walked about town, running some errands on his way back to work. On the street he encountered the wife of one of his employees. She was a short, kindly looking woman who liked to be called Mrs. Zachy.

“Ross!” she greeted him. “How did the last minute trip to London go?”

Ross didn’t think much of Mrs. Zachy knowing all of his comings and goings, for her husband surely kept her up to date.

“Not without incident,” he replied smiling.

Mrs. Zachy looked oddly at him. “You do look strange, Ross. Strangely happy.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I suppose I am,” he admitted.

“Why’s that?” she asked, genuinely interested.

Ross, having been consigned to silence by Verity, had to admit that he was dying to tell someone. “I – met someone. Well,” he corrected, “I already knew her. But I met up with her when I was back in London. She’s a friend of Verity’s, actually.”

“I see…” Mrs. Zachy drew out the syllable, smiling approvingly.

Ross looked embarrassed. "Please don’t tell Verity I said anything…or Demelza.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She paused a moment. “I suppose you heard about Jim?”

Ross looked up quickly, a worried expression on his face. Mrs. Zachy’s daughter Jinny and her husband, Jim, were recent transplants to London, and he knew that Mrs. Zachy worried about the two young people. He shook his head, urging her to fill him in.

“He ran into some trouble…” she trailed off, as though unable, if not unwilling, to go into detail. “With Sir Hugh Bodrugan.”

Ross swore under his breath. “What’s to be done about it?”

“Precious little,” Mrs. Zachy informed him sadly. “I fear the only good I may do is pray.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Ross answered.

“I don’t suppose you know anyone of…influence? In London.”

Ross’s mind cast back to his meeting with George Warleggan. “None that would be of any help.”

\----

Ross and Demelza talked everyday on the phone after that. Their subjects of conversation ranged wildly from school to work to least favorite food to dog and cat preferences to favorite seasons to favorite places and everything in between.

“So are you a dog person or a cat person?”

“Dogs, obviously. In ancient Egypt, cats were guardians of the underworld. Now they’re just the spawn of Satan.”

Ross laughed at her strong opinion. “Do you have a dog, then?”

“I do,” she said in her lilting accent.

“But not in your flat,” Ross guessed, having been there a few times and observing neither sight nor sound of one.

“No,” she admitted. “He’s still at my family’s house in Illugan.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Well, I got out of my family’s house as soon as I saved up enough for music school. But my flat didn’t allow pets, not that I could afford it anyway. My new flat does.”

Ross didn’t seem to pick up on Demelza’s use of the phrase, “got out of my family’s house.” Or at least, his reaction was not the same as a young college student’s might be. “When you come to Cornwall, you should go get him,” Ross insisted.

Demelza began slowly. “Except that means I’d have to go home,” she said in a small voice.

Ross’s face fell immediately, for now he understood.

“I’m sorry – I – I shouldn’t have asked,” he managed.

“No, it’s alright…” Demelza began. She continued shyly. “I don’t mind so much…talking about it with you.”

That made Ross split back into a hopeful smile.

“I’ll come with you.” He might have said “I could come with you,” but Ross wanted to make his feelings on the matter entirely clear. If Demelza wanted his help, she should have no hesitation. And if she didn’t, she would still have his support.

Demelza was silent on the other end.

“No one would need to know who I am,” he added. “I could be your canine replevin attorney.” That coaxed a laugh from Demelza, and Ross relaxed considerably.

“Where did you learn such fancy words?”

“I’m acquainted with the niceties of the law.”

“Really?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“Not like that!” he laughed. “Did you think I was up to no good?”

“Never.” Demelza waited a moment. “How have you been?”

Ross glowered for a second. “I heard the other day that one of my old friends is in a mite of trouble. He’s a Cornish transplant to London as well.”

“Oh, no!” Demelza exclaimed. “What happened?”

“I don’t know much,” he admitted. "But he’s just a lad – Jim Carter. Apparently, he’s run afoul of Sir Hugh Bodrugan,” Ross allowed darkly.

Demelza thought for a moment. “I know him. I think he’s one of the patrons at my school.”

“I assume you mean Sir Hugh,” Ross tried to joke.

“Yes, Ross, Sir Hugh is the patron. Not your teenage friend.” She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling.

\----

Demelza was pacing in the garden near her school. A plan had taken form in her mind, and she was working up the courage to follow through with it. Seeing the object of her attentions approaching, she moved herself into his view.

“Sir Hugh, how nice to see you!”

Sir Hugh, a stately, elderly man, stopped short, surprised. “Ah, Ms. Carne,” he greeted her. Demelza secretly thanked her lucky stars that he recognized her. “I remember your stint last term in _Les Miserables_.” He exaggerated the French, and continued good-naturedly. “Marvelous, marvelous. I hope this new term is going well.”

“It is,” she assured him. She felt she had caught him in a good mood. “I wonder if I could have a word, sir.”

“Of course!” He lent her his arm, in the way that the old-time nobility might. Demelza accepted it, with a smile to herself. They walked down the path to a quieter patch of the grounds.

“Do you hunt, Ms. Carne?” Sir Hugh asked, off topic. Demelza knew of Sir Hugh’s fondness for fox hunting.

“No, sir. I have some sympathy for the foxes.”

Sir Hugh guffawed. Demelza plunged ahead.

“I wanted to ask you about Jim Carter,” she began.

Sir Hugh’s face darkened a bit.

“What of him?” he asked cautiously.

“Well, I can’t say that I know much about the situation,” Demelza admitted. In truth, she knew almost nothing. “But he is a sort of friend of mine,” she continued. “He’s a good lad. I’d happily make good any loss if he could be let off with a severe warning.” Demelza fixed Sir Hugh with what she hoped was a serious gaze.

Sir Hugh looked thoughtful. Demelza gave him an encouraging smile.

“Ah, how can I refuse that face?” he agreed. Demelza let out a sigh of relief, but one that she hoped wasn’t loud enough to draw his attention. “And I hope we’ll be seeing much more of you on the stage this year. Eponine was far too sad a role for such a happy soul as you, my dear.”

“Acting,” Demelza asserted with a sly smile. Sir Hugh guffawed again.

“I shall make right with your friend,” he assured her. She thanked him profusely, and gave him a charming smile as she went on her way.

\----

Demelza was giddy with excitement that her experiment had gone so well. When she got back to her flat, she calculated that Ross would be finished with work for the day, so she rang him.

“Demelza,” Ross answered, his voice playful.

“Oh, Ross, I have wonderful news.”

“What’s that?”

“Your friend, Jim,” she began. She wasn’t sure how to phrase it. “I wasn’t sure it would work. I didn’t want to give you…false hope.”

Ross waited expectantly on the end of the line.

“I saw Sir Hugh,” she continued. “And he’s agreed to drop the charges.”

“Wha-” Ross began. He fell silent. “I – I don’t understand.” He paused once more. “You… _marvel_.”

Demelza let out an excited breath.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice full of feeling.

“My pleasure,” she answered softly.

“I cannot _wait_ to see you.”

“Less than a week,” she reminded him, a strange sort of fluttering in her stomach.

“I’m counting down the days,” he assured her.

“Well I’m not coming only for you!” she admonished playfully. “As I recall, this is a girls’ trip to the seaside.”

“As I recall, this was another example of Verity ‘helping me,’” he bantered back.

“Really?” Demelza asked, surprised. Then she thought about it for a second. “She knew…quickly.”

“So did I,” Ross answered immediately.

Demelza set two fingers against her smiling lips at his admission. She nodded her head in agreement and…acceptance. Then, realizing he couldn’t see her, she added, “Well, then I suppose we all did.”

“Until Saturday, then,” he rumbled deep in his throat, his voice betraying his pleasure at Demelza’s own sort of admission.

“Bye, Ross,” she breathed. Then, not caring a whit that she most certainly looked like some lovesick loon from a romantic comedy, she sunk down onto her bed and closed her eyes, replaying the words in her mind for what would certainly not be the last time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nampara Spring Break Day 1!!!  
> You guys, I seriously cannot properly explain the thrill that I get every time someone comments on this story. I am so so so glad you're enjoying it!! <3

Verity and Demelza had been on the train for hours, hurtling towards Cornwall. Verity seemed deep into her novel, and Demelza was pretending to be much the same. But in reality, she couldn’t seem to focus on the words in front of her as the train brought her minute by minute closer to Ross. _Ross_ , she thought. _My boyfriend_. Without realizing it, she let out a quivery, excited breath. It drew Verity’s eyes upward, and a knowing smile graced her lips.

“Excited, my dear?”

Demelza’s gaze shot up, and she quickly admitted as such, nodding fervently. “We’re going to have such fun!”

“I should hope so!” Verity said, her eyebrows wagging. Demelza shot her a scandalized look.

“All three of us!” Demelza corrected her. She paused for a second. “Verity…” she began.

“Yes?”

“I just want to…set you at ease. It’s just – I don’t want you to feel like a third wheel...” Verity nodded, cutting her off in her awkward attempt to broach the topic.

“Don’t worry my dear. I can assure you, when I invited you to the coast, I had certain motives.”

“Ross did mention…” she admitted.

“I’m happy to play matchmaker. God knows, Ross needed my expertise and assistance.”

“Oh?” Demelza raised an eyebrow. “Not had much practice, then?”

Verity appeared to consider her response for a moment. “Not really. Not in a while.”

Demelza sensed that there was more to the story, but chose not to inquire. The past was the past. And out of practice or not, Ross was plenty charming in her book. She gave Verity a smile as if to convey these thoughts, and Verity seemed to understand. The two fell into companionable silence. And the train continued on. Not much longer now.

\----

As the train pulled into the station, Demelza’s foot was tapping frantically to match the fluttering in her stomach. Verity had long-since ceased any attempt to calm her, and instead found it horribly endearing that her best friend was so head-over-heels for her favorite cousin. When the train came to a stop, the girls gathered their things and exited the car, stepping out onto the platform. At the far end, Demelza spotted a mess of dark curly hair. Ross sighted them as well, and the two parties strode toward each other, meeting in the middle. Ross had his arms outstretched, and he enveloped them in a three person hug. Then he leaned down and picked up one of Verity’s suitcases, and tilted his head toward the exit, urging them to follow him. Demelza was feeling ever so slightly put off, when Ross leaned over, mid-stride, and brushed a kiss against her cheek. She jerked her head toward him in surprise, and her smile felt as though it would strain the muscles in her face.

Ross led them out to the car, and Verity resolutely claimed the backseat, leaving the front for Demelza. Once in the passenger seat, Demelza began to fiddle with the radio. She cast a mischievous glance at Ross when he took notice, but his smile seemed to say “by all means.” Settling upon a channel, she sat back in her seat. The hairs on Demelza’s arms were standing on end, and she felt the urge to lean against the car’s center console, but she resisted. Ross, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind. He rested his arm on the console, dangerously close to Demelza’s arm in her own seat.

“It’s not much of a drive,” Ross assured them, glancing sidelong at Demelza. “I’m sure the six hours on the train have you begging to stretch your legs.”

True to his word, they arrived shortly thereafter. Verity marveled, “Why, it’s just the same.” Ross shot her a faux-scandalized look. “In a good way!” she insisted. “Takes me back to when we were children.”

“Did you live here when you were a child?” Demelza asked, curious. Ross seemed confused by the question, so Verity filled her in.

“This has been a Poldark house for quite some time. My father’s as well. The land is connected to the mines, you see, so we have to keep it all together.”

“Oh,” Demelza answered. She felt slightly silly. Ross curled his arm around her waist encouragingly. The three of them walked into the old stone house.

Ross set each of the girls up in a guest bedroom, and they unpacked some of their things. Downstairs, Ross mixed some drinks. Finished first, Demelza crept downstairs. When she rounded the corner, Ross looked up at the sound of her approach. Demelza smiled shyly at him. Without Verity present, Ross closed the distance between them in three quick strides to kiss her properly. “Hi,” he grinned. She giggled, and ran her fingers through the hair around his ears, kissing him again. He responded in kind, until they heard the sound of Verity on the steps. They broke away quickly, and Ross shot her a furtive glance as he turned back toward mixing the drinks. He held one out as Verity emerged from the staircase, offering it to her. She took it with a smile, but then chided her cousin.

“Shouldn’t you be giving us the grand tour?”

“How remiss of me,” he replied, handing Demelza a drink and then leading them both down the hallway. “You’ve just seen the kitchen,” he said. “Down here we have the library.” He opened the door for them to view, and not thinking much of it, continued onward. Demelza paused at the library door, taking in a multitude of interesting trinkets and documents. Books, maps, an old fashioned piano. Rocks running with veins of copper and tin. What looked like Native American artifacts. And an old fashioned desk and chair and trunks. But Ross and Verity, used to such sights, were already moving on. Demelza hurried to match their pace.

“There’s the garden out there. And the upstairs, I suppose.” They went back up the way they’d come. “You know your bedrooms.” The door was open to a third room – one slightly more lived-in. Demelza assumed that was Ross’s, and Ross spared a quick remark to confirm as such. And that was the long and short of it.

“You’ve left out the stables,” Verity reminded him.

“That’s not part of the house,” he shot back.

“Stables?” Demelza asked. “Do you have horses?”

“Currently, just the one,” he answered. “Do you like horses?” Demelza nodded.

“What’s its name?”

“Seamus,” he said, his face scrunching up a bit. Demelza grinned back at him.

“Good Irish name.” She quirked an eyebrow.

Verity cut in. “Ross, it’s so nice outside. Let’s take these drinks out on the patio.”

Seated comfortably outside, the three relaxed with their drinks. Ross had a sort of fire pit on his patio, and Verity urged him to light it, as it was starting to get dark. As he bustled about, Verity complained, “My God, Ross, what did you put in these?”

Ross looked bemused. “Are they too strong?” Verity simply raised her eyebrow at him. “My apologies. It was a long day at the mine. I needed something to take the edge off.”

Demelza rebuked him, “You’ll put us straight to sleep with these.”

“Well I can’t have that!” Ross insisted, abandoning the fire pit and swiping the glass from Demelza’s hand.

“Hey!” she protested, but Ross was already headed inside. He returned shortly with two glasses in tow. “The same amount,” he explained. “Plus some filler.” Demelza quirked her mouth at him, but accepted one of the glasses back.

“Don’t I get the same treatment?” Verity inquired.

“No. You can hold your liquor.”

“Can’t I?” Demelza asked.

“That’s for you to demonstrate,” he teased. Demelza took a surreptitious sip of her drink, avoiding the grimace the former had brought upon her.

“So when are you going to Trenwith?” Ross asked Verity. Verity looked a little guilty.

“I haven’t decided if I will or not,” she admitted. This was news to Demelza, who leaned in to listen to the cousins’ conversation.

“You wouldn’t disappoint Aunt Agatha,” Ross teased, seizing upon the relative he thought least offensive in this instance. “They do know you’re here?” he asked.

“Not exactly…” she allowed.

“So you’ve put me in a very difficult position,” Ross said. “Am I to lie to them?” Demelza was starting to piece together that Verity was avoiding her family. It wasn’t surprising to her – she and Verity had discussed such things before.

“No,” Verity admitted. “I should go see them. And I will. But will you?” It was Ross’s turn to look embarrassed.

“I see them more than you do.”

“Yes, but if you came with, it would be less awkward.”

This time, Demelza cut in. “And what will you do, leave me here?”

The Poldark cousins were snapped out of their conversation to look at Demelza. Clearly neither had contemplated that. Several thoughts seemed to flicker through both of their minds. Demelza immediately regretted her interjection. What if they made her come? It was clear they both were pondering the implications. Verity saved them all from their internal monologues.

“I’ll go to Trenwith while you’re at the mine, Ross. You’re right, I can’t come all the way out here and not see them.”

“Sorry, but, what’s Trenwith?” Demelza finally asked.

“Oh. You know how these stately homes all have names?” Verity replied. “My father’s house is called Trenwith. And this house is called Nampara.”

“Oh,” Demelza managed. Just then, Ross reached down toward Demelza’s hand, which was hanging down the side of her chair, and intertwined their fingers. She started at the physical contact, and glanced at Ross. He seemed to realize that she had been feeling uncomfortable, and was determined to change that.

“Let’s play a game!” he suggested.

An hour or two later, and several drinks worse for wear, Ross, Demelza, and Verity each held up several fingers on their right hands.

“This is getting difficult,” Verity complained.

“No repeats!” Demelza reminded her, gesticulating wildly. “You’ll just have to be creative.”

“Ugh, fine. Never have I ever…been in a bar fight.”

Demelza shot a glance at Ross, who took a drink obligingly. He gave her a shrug. “University.”

“Never have I ever…” began Demelza, “…seen a shipwreck?” She finished the sentence like a question.

“That is oddly specific,” Verity said.

“I was running out of options!” Demelza complained. “Did I even get anyone?”

“Me,” Ross answered, finishing the drink he was holding.

“Huh,” Verity and Demelza made the noise at the same time.

“I live on the coast. It’s not so odd, is it?”

“My turn!” Verity declared. “Never have I ever dated a red head,” she said, wagging her eyebrow at her cousin. To everyone’s surprise, Demelza drank from her glass as well. Ross gave her a questioning look.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

Eventually, Verity won the game.

“You need to get out more, Verity,” Ross teased. “You’re the oldest of the lot, and apparently the most sheltered.”

“You need to ask better questions if you want to win, Ross. Don’t blame me.” She punctuated her statement with a yawn. Demelza’s eyelids were drooping as well. Ross glanced at his cousin and his girlfriend, and authoritatively urged them toward their rooms.

“Oh, Ross,” Demelza whined. The two of them looked ready to protest, but it didn’t take much to get Verity to cave, and Demelza followed suit. Ross doused the fire pit with some water, and Demelza made to gather up the empty glasses, but Ross shooed her away.

“I’ll get you both some water,” he told them, and moved toward the kitchen. Verity moved inside as well, with Demelza trailing her. As Verity reached the staircase, Ross met up with her, depositing the water glass into her hand. With that, Verity headed upstairs.

“So your idea of a good time is drinking games on your patio?” Demelza teased as she drew nearer to Ross’s place in the kitchen.

“Undoubtedly,” he replied. “Water?” he asked, handing it toward her.

“Probably a good idea,” she admitted, gulping it down. She finished the glass and handed it back to him, clucking her tongue as if to say “all done.” Ross smiled, more to himself than Demelza. He replaced the glass in the kitchen sink, and then turned back toward her. His hand slid against her cheekbone, cupping her cheek and then stroking her hair. Their lips met. Demelza made an _mmmm_ sound against his mouth as his hands encircled her waist. The kiss deepened, with Demelza’s arms resting against his shoulders and around his neck. Her arms slid back downward, and Ross captured one of her hands. He tugged gently, leading her upstairs. Not knowing quite what he intended, Demelza followed him, her eyes gleaming. Demelza’s guest bedroom was adjacent to Ross’s. As they reached the space between the two, Ross turned again and gave her a chaste kiss.

“Goodnight, Demelza,” he all but whispered.

Demelza felt just the slightest bit disappointed, but answered him, “Goodnight, Ross.” Reluctantly, the two let go their hands, and Demelza turned back toward her room.

A beat later, Ross appealed again. “Demelza?”

Demelza turned back, eyes gleaming. “Yes?”

Ross drew incredibly close, rubbing their noses together and inhaling her deeply. “Goodnight,” he intoned again, withdrawing with what Demelza could have sworn was a mischievous glint in his eye. He held her gaze as he stepped back into his bedroom, firmly shutting the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nampara: Day 2  
> Featuring some stunning cliffs and our favorite horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those on the BBC schedule, I thought you could use some cheering up. I give you an overload of sickeningly sweet fluff.  
> I'm absolutely loving all of your comments. And welcome to all the new readers! I hope I can put a balm on your aching souls, considering recent events. Can't wait to hear what you all think of this latest chapter!

Morning light streamed through the window as Demelza’s phone quietly chirped at her to wake up. Her eyes shot open, and she quickly silenced the alarm. It was early still, far earlier than she expected either of the Poldarks would be awake. She rose from bed and strode toward the mirror. Her luggage was strewn about haphazardly. After digging around a bit, she located a brush and some other helpful tools, and started to work on her hair.

Later – later than Demelza would have liked to admit – she declared herself fit for the eyes of polite society. Though, of course, she had a higher standard in mind. She’d delicately piled her curls on top of her head and bound them with a winding headband. The perfect balance of casual and tempting. She then proceeded to agonize over her clothes for fifteen minutes. To put it mildly, she had severely overpacked. _I wanted to be prepared for all scenarios!_ she argued with herself. She settled on some spring layers she could always peel off later. _Perfume, no perfume? Good God, Demelza, chill out._ She shook herself and took a deep breath. Now the question was – were Ross and Verity awake?

Demelza cautiously stuck her head through the doorway, and saw both doors closed down the hall. She tiptoed downstairs, not wanting to wake them. As she rounded the corner, she spotted Ross in the kitchen.

“Oh, Ross!” she exclaimed, surprised. Ross whirled around from his place at the stove. He looked surprised as well.

Regaining his composure, he asked, “Now what do you mean, being awake at this hour?” Ross was fully dressed and clean shaven – an apparent offender himself.

Not wanting to answer, _well I woke up super early and got all dressed up and tried to sneak downstairs with no real plan in mind_ , she countered, “What are _you_ doing awake so early?”

“Cooking!” he answered, gesturing obviously to the stove.  

Demelza sniffed at the air. “It smells good. Anything I can help you with?”

“No!” he insisted. “You’re a guest!” Demelza pursed her lips, but took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Tea?” he asked, busying himself with the kettle.

“Yes, please.”

“How do you take it?”

“How do you?”

Ross quirked his eyebrow at her, but she held his gaze, so he answered. “Cream, one sugar.”

Demelza looked satisfied. “Cream and two,” she answered. Ross smiled at her, and went back to his kitchen bustling. After the kettle reached a boil, he set her cup on the table in front of her, leaning over. The cup was on the table, but Ross still held it in hand, looking quizzically at her.

“So this is how you look in the morning,” he observed cheekily.

Demelza involuntarily bit her lip, and shifted sideways in her seat, dragging her knees across the chair edge and to the side. As she did so, Ross’s hand abandoned the mug and cupped her cheek. They kissed sweetly, tasting each other. Just then, a loud _pop_ came from the skillet, which was frying sausages. Demelza started, and Ross laughed, giving her one more kiss before turning back to the cooking. Eyes sparkling, Demelza took a sip of her tea, the mug warming her hands pleasantly.

“When do you suppose Verity will wake up?” she asked.

“Not for a while, I’d say,” he answered, glancing back at her. “She’s not really one for early mornings.”

“Well then the food will be cold!” she protested.

“Anything she can make herself would be better than what I’m making,” he laughed self-deprecatingly.

“Isn’t she the guest?” she raised an eyebrow at him. His back was to her, but he heard the expression in her voice, and smirked to himself. He chose not to answer. The various ingredients were nearly finished, and Ross started putting together some plates. Eggs, sausages, toast, and tomatoes. He brought the two plates over to the table, set them down, and loudly dragged the chair against the stone floor, closer to Demelza. At the corner of the table, their knees bumped up against each other.

As if realizing something, Demelza remarked accusatorily, “You’ve seen me in the morning before.” Ross’s eyes narrowed, and he gave her a wicked grin.

“I suppose I have.” Demelza eyed him for a second, and then enthusiastically dug into her breakfast. Ross grinned and followed suit. The two ate in silence for a few minutes. Every once in a while, one would catch the eye of the other, and Demelza would giggle. Ross moved his left hand under the table to rest on Demelza’s knee. He innocently traced patterns through the denim of her jeans, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Ross took a final gulp of his tea, and set it back down on the table. Demelza snatched it up and moved toward the kitchen counter, casting a mischievous glance behind her. Ross made a halfhearted noise, as though to protest, but she was already filling the kettle.

“So that’s why you asked me how I take my tea,” he observed as she set it back down in front of him. Quite without warning, Demelza spun her body and plopped herself into his lap. Ross looked genuinely startled for a second while Demelza grinned wolfishly at him. She leaned forward and kissed him swiftly. Ross’s hands immediately moved to her waist and he kissed her some more. The tendrils of hair that hadn’t been caught by Demelza’s headband tickled Ross’s face. Ross heard a creak on the stairs, but couldn’t bring himself to care. At the second or third creak, however, Demelza noticed. She pulled away, but didn’t manage to remove herself from Ross’s lap before Verity rounded the corner.

She jumped backwards, almost comically, and immediately asked. “What are you two doing?”

Ross paused for a beat. “Ventriloquism,” he deadpanned. Demelza giggled.

“Sorry, Verity,” she said, dislodging herself from Ross’s embrace and sitting back in her own chair. “Breakfast?” she asked, smiling at her friend.

\----

As it seemed that Ross could not be trusted to plan outings for the visiting ladies, Verity took matters into her own hands. Armed with a picnic basket and blanket, the group walked across the Nampara fields to the cove. Verity and Demelza were walking together cheerfully, their arms linked. Ross was saddled with the basket and blanket. The girls whispered conspiratorially.

“I’ve turned your boyfriend into a pack mule,” Verity told her.

“But he looks good doing it,” Demelza returned.

Verity raised her voice for Ross’s benefit. “Now Demelza, we’re almost there. Are you ready to have your breath taken away?” Demelza nodded, and turned her head back at Ross, smiling widely. They were close now. The wind was whipping at their hair and clothes. Demelza was glad of her headband and layers in this moment.

Demelza was of good Cornish blood. To be honest, she thought she’d seen her fair share of cliffs. But then they came upon Nampara Cove. The water was glistening with the midmorning sun, the most beautiful blue-green. Whitecaps tipped the waves coming in. The craggy edges of stone stretched for miles in both directions. Down below, Demelza saw some bits of sandy beach littered with driftwood and seaweed. Demelza took a few deep breaths, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. Ross was gazing sidelong at her, an appreciative smile on his face. She shifted her gaze desperately between Verity and Ross.

“It’s so beautiful!” she insisted. Verity was smiling approvingly.

“I knew you’d like it my dear. Now the question is, should we set up on the cliff, or down on the beach?”

“The beach?” Demelza suggested.

The path down the cliffside was winding and narrow. At least twice Ross offered a guiding hand to both ladies. When they reached the bottom, they spread the blanket out high up the beach, away from the waves’ reach, and settled upon it.

Demelza sighed again. “It’s just so beautiful.”

“Are the cliffs not like this where you’re from?” Verity asked, curious.

“Not even close. Not that I had much reason to go to the cliffs, anyway,” she admitted. She spotted a spire above the cliff face. “What’s that?”

“Wheal Leisure,” Ross replied.

“My goodness, how long has Wheal Leisure been around?” she asked, noting the old-fashioned chimney and building.

“Centuries. But it’s all modern underneath, don’t worry.”

“Ross, you don’t go down into the mine yourself, do you?” Verity asked.

“Sometimes,” Ross admitted.

“Oh, Ross, it’s dangerous!” Verity said.

Demelza glanced sidelong as Ross as he sat, silent. “I think…Ross probably doesn’t want to ask people to do something he wouldn’t do himself,” she ventured. Ross looked up at that, and she could see she’d gotten it right. Verity’s expression softened at the observation.

“Well, just promise me you’ll be careful,” she added.

“Careful is my middle name!” he insisted. He dug into the picnic basket and tossed something across to Verity. Verity caught it, and leaned over to Demelza.

“No it’s not, it’s Vennor.”

Demelza looked amused, but no more was said on the topic of middle names.

A while later, after some snacking and chatting, Demelza decided that the water temperature needed to be checked. She kicked off her shoes and socks and rolled up her jeans, then set off for the waves. Ross called, “It’s _March_!” after her, but she didn’t care. She was approaching slowly, but as she neared the water’s edge she sped up until her feet touched the sea. She shrieked, jumping away both from excitement and _cold_.

“It’s freezing!” she yelled back at them, but ran back in, her shins cutting into the waves.

“Demelza, come back!” Verity called.

“No, shan’t,” she called back. “I’m very busy being stubborn!” Demelza was jogging away from the Poldarks, the sounds of the waves ringing in her ears. So she positively shrieked again when a pair of strong hands grasped her around her middle and behind her knees, lifting her out of the water and resolutely dragging her back to the beach. “Ah, Ross!” she complained. He smirked at her, depositing her back onto the picnic blanket.

“Sit down, young lady,” Verity chided her. “Your feet are purple!”

“And you’re no fun!”

\----

When the three returned to Nampara, Verity shared some bad news.

“If you two don’t mind, I have just a bit of work to do.”

“Oh, Verity – ” Demelza started to complain.

“I’ll get it done now, and we’ll have the rest of break free!” she interjected.

Demelza sighed in resignation.

“You can go meet Seamus,” she encouraged, glancing between the two.

“Oooh! That would be fun!” she decided, glancing quickly at Ross. Verity turned to leave, and Ross reached down, taking Demelza’s hand. He led her outside.

At the stables entrance, Ross told Demelza to stay there. He emerged a moment later, a beautiful black gelding in tow.

“This is Seamus.”

“Wow, he’s beautiful.” She gasped appreciatively. She moved to stroke his mane and pat his side.

“He’s half Irish, half Arabian. Bit like myself,” he joked, his eyes crinkling. Demelza scrunched her face up at him.

“Can we ride him?”

“Do you ride?”

“A little.”

“Is that all? Then you must practice.” He stood behind her, his hands on her hips, and swiftly lifted her onto the horse. Demelza gasped in surprise, but upon finding her seat, she looked quite pleased with her new surroundings. Ross jumped on behind her. He chuckled softly at Seamus, who set a slow pace forward. They circled two or three times, coming back to the starting place.

Ross dismounted the horse and moved to help Demelza down. Demelza straightened up on Seamus’s back, settled herself, and urged Seamus to an accomplished trot, grinning back at a bemused Ross as she left him behind. She circled back around.

“You said a little,” he accused.

“Well, I haven’t ridden since I moved to London!” she shot back.

She circled him a few more times, working Seamus’s path into a figure eight. Ross was laughing now.  “Come off it!” he called to her. She conceded, pulling Seamus up next to Ross and lifting her right leg over Seamus’s back. Ross was waiting below, and caught her by the hips on her way down.

“You keep running away from me,” he said, his voice low and husky, his nose nearly brushing hers. Demelza tilted her face up, catching his lips with hers. Seamus was still right behind Demelza, and she was pressed up against him. This did not please Seamus. He nickered and walked away. The movement startled Demelza, who let out a gasp against Ross’s mouth.

Ross disengaged from Demelza’s kiss, laughing softly. “Seamus doesn’t like to stand still.”

“Neither do I,” Demelza answered. “Don’t you like chasing me?”

Ross didn’t answer. He just kissed her again.

\----

Ross and Demelza strode back into the house, hand-in-hand. Verity looked up from her laptop at their arrival.

“Ladies,” Ross’s voice rumbled, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Verity looked at him in surprise. Ross looked sorry. “I have to be at the mine really early tomorrow morning. Would take-aways be okay tonight?”

Thirty minutes later, three curries arrived at the door via one of those hipster, bike courier-types. Verity took charge of the Netflix as the three of them set up on the couch. “Oh, Ross,” Verity complained. “You have a thousand things in your queue.”

“I’m a busy man,” he answered, though he was looking at Demelza as he said so. She touched her head to his shoulder for a second, and then turned back to her curry.  

\----

The three thoroughly enjoyed their take-aways and action/adventure. And Ross held himself to his early wake-up call. Verity and Demelza weren’t so inclined for sleep, so he moved toward the stairs, shooting a furtive glance back toward Demelza.

“I, uh, I’m gonna go grab something from my room real quick,” Demelza told Verity, convincing no one.

“Hey!” she whispered up the stairs as she followed Ross. He whirled on the spot, grinning. He reached out his hand and pulled her up to the stairs landing.

“Have a good day at work tomorrow,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Hey,” his voice rumbled as he turned his face to catch her lips.

_Mmmm_ she sighed against his mouth, rising onto her tiptoes, her arms wrapping around his neck. She gave him two or three more kisses. “Now, go to sleep!” she insisted, laughing and half-heartedly pushing him backwards. He grinned back at her, breaking away from her arms but retaining one of her hands. He slipped his hand out of hers slowly as he turned into his room.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back at her.

Demelza arrived back in the living room. Knowing full-well what she’d been doing, Verity asked, “So, what did you have to get from your room?”

Demelza, feeling very pleased with herself, deposited a wrapped present in Verity’s lap.

“What…?”

“For you.” She gave her a knowing look, and thanked her lucky stars that she’d remembered to bring it downstairs after her unconvincing excuse. “I just wanted to show you…you’re not a third wheel.” Demelza looked to her friend for reassurance.

“I never thought I was!” Verity answered. “Demelza, I’m so happy you’re happy, really!”

“Ok, good, but just open your present!”

Verity tore at the wrappings. Out fell a bottle of perfume.

“Oh, Demelza, you didn’t have to do that! But thank you!”

“For our next fancy night on the town. And as a thank you for being such a good friend.” The girls smiled at each other, and then Demelza grabbed at the remote.

“Late-night binge watch?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures in Truro, and the introduction of a certain love interest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all so much. I'm doing my best to make up for the gaping hole left by the hiatus. Your comments give me life and keep me going. Can't wait to hear what you all think of this one! <3

The next morning, Ross tiptoed down the stairs for his early day at the mine. He came upon Verity and Demelza, sound asleep on the couch. He furrowed his brow, and fetched two blankets from the cupboard, covering the girls. He placed a light kiss on Demelza’s brow, stroking some stray hairs away from her face. Then he set off for work.

At the sound of the door closing, Demelza began to stir. She noticed the blanket, and surmised that Ross had covered them both. She could hear the sound of Ross starting his car and pulling out of the driveway. But she hadn’t the will to rouse herself fully, at least, not in time to go outside and wish Ross a good day at work. Besides, there was the curious ghost of a feeling on her forehead, as though Ross had kissed it before he left. Demelza smiled to herself, and snuggled back into the couch. It was far too early.

Hours later, Verity and Demelza were newly awake, dressed, and fed.

“Let’s go to Truro!” Verity suggested. “We can go shopping or something.”

“Ooooh, yes!” Demelza agreed.

The girls happily strolled down the cobbled High Street, eyeing the window displays.

In the distance, Verity saw Mrs. Zachy. “Mrs. Zachy!” she called. She looked up in surprise, but quickly split into a pleased smile. She hurried toward Verity and Demelza.

“Verity, how lovely to see you! How are you?”

“I’m great. It’s nice to be home. How are you?”

“I can’t complain,” she replied good-naturedly. She spared a glance at Demelza, and then did a double take. “Is this –” she began, turning toward Demelza. “Are you Demelza?”

Demelza looked taken aback. “I am. Uh, nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, my dear.” Mrs. Zachy tried to put Demelza at ease. “It’s just, Ross mentioned you.”

Demelza blushed, and Verity looked pleased as punch. Mrs. Zachy changed the subject.

“Do you see much of Jinny and Jim in London, Verity?”

“Not so much as I would like,” Verity answered apologetically.

Demelza wondered, “Do you mean Jim Carter?”

“Why, yes,” Mrs. Zachy answered. “Do you know him? What a small world. He’s my son-in-law.”

“Oh! I don’t know him. But Ross mentioned something. How is he doing?”

Mrs. Zachy was beaming. “He’s doing wonderfully, darling. He was in a spot of trouble, but that’s all gone away now. A misunderstanding, I’m sure. But I’m that glad.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, Mrs. Zachy,” Demelza told her. She was not about to take credit for her conversation with Sir Hugh, but she was very happy to have helped. The three exchanged a few more pleasantries, and parted with promises to meet up soon. With a smile, the girls then resumed their High Street wanderings.

Verity and Demelza came upon an outdoor flower market, and Demelza went a bit mad. “Verity! Oh my gosh, can we?” She gestured toward the tents. Verity just smiled and tilted her head in acknowledgement. Demelza sped up and barreled toward the vendors, with Verity at a sensible pace behind her.

“I haven’t seen these before,” Demelza observed at one of the stalls.

“Ah, that’s called a McKenna Hybrid. Quite unusual, but striking, don’t you think?” the vendor answered her. Verity left her friend to chat excitedly with the flower salesman, and wandered along the aisles by herself. She eyed a large display of pink roses as she rounded the corner of one of the aisles, and let out of an _oomph_ as she made a headlong collision.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed as the man simultaneously pleaded, “Excuse me!” Verity took a deep breath, and made eye contact with her traffic partner.

“I’m – I’m so sorry.”

“Please, it was my fault.” The man eyed her for a moment. “I’m Andrew.” He stuck out his hand.

“Verity,” she answered. Verity glanced back at Demelza, who was still chatting animatedly at one of the flower stalls. “Nice to meet you. Although, I suppose the circumstances could be more auspicious.”

Andrew guffawed. “What brings you to the flower market?” he tried to make conversation.

“My…friend,” she gestured back at her. “She’s a real flower nerd.”

“Flower nerd?”

“No other way to put it.”

Andrew chuckled. “And do you not like flowers?”

“Well, what woman doesn’t like flowers?” she asked.

“What woman indeed.” Andrew was eyeing her intensely. Normally, Verity would have found it off-putting, but there was…something about him.

“What brings you to the flower market? Need an apology for your girlfriend?” she ventured, and then internally kicked herself. _Be more obvious, Verity._

“No,” he answered, light dancing in his eyes. He pulled a pound from his pocket and placed it on the counter of the stall, freeing one of the pink roses from the display. He handed it to her. “But here’s an apology for you.”

“Oh – you don’t have to –” Verity floundered.

From across the way, Demelza searched for her friend, her eyes landing upon the two conversing. She caught them just as the man handed a rose to Verity. In normal circumstances, such an old-fashioned gesture might have set off Demelza’s neck-beard detector, but Verity’s blush matched the pink of the roses, and Demelza sensed that the gesture was not unwelcome. She watched them continue to chat, and finally the man reached into his pocket and handed Verity a business card. Then he strode away, glancing back at her once more.

Demelza quickly averted her gaze and dove back into flower conversation with the salesperson. She felt Verity’s approach, and resolved to let Verity bring the situation up herself. But inwardly she thrilled.

“Well, my dear, have you bought the lot?” Verity asked, her voice even more cheery than usual.

“Not yet…I wouldn’t want them to spoil before we go back to Nampara. We should stop back before we leave Truro.” Verity agreed, and the two left the flower market.

“I think we need new dresses,” Demelza declared. “You never know what sort of occasion will arise…especially on holiday.”

Verity quirked her lip, thinking a moment. “Alright, I know just the place.”

What followed was a shopping expedition fit for a movie montage. The girls tried on floppy sun hats and scarves, sprayed perfume samples into the air, and even tried on evening gowns they had no intention of ever needing. After a perfectly nice salesperson checked in on the two, Verity joked to Demelza, “You work on commission, right? Big mistake. Huge.” Demelza dissolved into giggles.

“Well frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” she parroted back. “Seriously, though,” Demelza began again. “I think we deserve some semi-fancy dresses for all occasions.”

Verity reached for a nearby rack, and withdrew a full red dress with a gold flower pattern. “Oh, my dear, what about this?”

“A red dress? With my ginger hair?” she asked disbelievingly.

“Oh, at least try it!” Verity insisted.

Demelza sighed. “Fine. As long as _you_ promise to try on something with a little color.” Verity looked scandalized. “You’re always wearing classy neutral stuff, but I think we need to brighten you up a bit.” Demelza side-eyed her, wondering whether to bring up the strange man she’d seen. She decided against.

Demelza tried on the dress, and came outside with slight trepidation. “Oh, Demelza,” Verity said softly. “You look amazing!”

“…I guess you were right,” Demelza answered disbelievingly. Verity came up behind her as she looked in the mirror. She elbowed her teasingly.

“Ross will be a fan.”

“That strange man from the flower market will like this, I think,” Demelza said, gesturing to the dress Verity was trying. Verity blushed.

“Oh – you saw that?” Demelza nodded vigorously.

“And the business card. When are you seeing him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, make it soon.” Demelza paused for a moment. “We do have to go back to London soon.”

Verity sighed. “And isn’t that the whole problem? I can’t go out with him, I’m leaving!”

“Oh, Verity, come on! It’s a date, not a marriage proposal! Besides,” she continued, “if it goes well, who’s to say you can’t do the long distance thing? I’m doing it…” She quirked an eyebrow at her friend, daring her to disagree. “You deserve a little fun!” Demelza insisted. “So it’s settled. We’re buying some dresses, and you’re giving him a call.”

Verity’s face was unreadable for a moment. Then she scrunched up her nose. “Okay. I liked him. I’ll give him a call.” Demelza did a little dance in the shop.

The two emerged from the shop, laden with shopping bags. A few steps outside, Demelza stopped short. A man stood in front of her, staring in disbelief and shock.

“Dad.”

“Demelza. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?”

“I’m…on break.”

“But yer in Cornwall. Why?”

Demelza looked uncomfortable. Implicit in her father’s inquiry was the question, “Why have to come home and avoided your family?”

“I’m…doing charity work. I’m spending my break volunteering. So I just didn’t have the time to come home. And I didn’t want to tell you all I was coming, just to disappoint you, or anything.”

Verity had been carefully assessing the situation, ready to support her friend, and jumped in now. “We’ve been getting donations for underprivileged youth,” she explained, holding up her own shopping bag. She quickly stuck out her hand. “Mr. Carne, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Verity Poldark.”

“Poldark,” Demelza’s father mused. “Ain’t that the chap that owns the mine at Grambler?”

“It is. That’s my father,” Verity admitted. She was determined to take the focus off of Demelza, who was clearly blushing and flustered. Tom Carne seemed flustered, though in a different way, and Verity thought the best solution was a quick parting of ways.

“Demelza?” she turned to her friend. “We should maybe…get back with these donations.” She left her an out. The two silently communicated.

“Dad, it was…unexpected. But nice to see you. I think Verity’s right, we have somewhere to be. Um…goodbye?” she ended it like a question, like she needed permission to take leave from her estranged father. Mr. Carne set his jaw, ready to protest.

“Mr. Carne, so nice to meet you,” Verity stuck out her hand again. He took it begrudgingly. “Have a lovely day.” Then she linked her arm with Demelza, and the two turned and strode away.

A couple blocks away, Demelza let out the breath she’d been holding. “Are you okay?” Verity asked her. She nodded.

“I will be. I just did not expect that.”

“I know sweetie. It’s over now. We can head back to Nampara.”

“But you should call that guy!” Demelza insisted. Verity looked confused at this turn in the conversation. “I must have something to divert me,” she explained.

“Well, I’m not going to call him in front of you. But I’ll tell you how it goes,” she assured her.

The drive back to Nampara vastly improved their moods, with the windows down and music blasting. Back at Nampara, Verity had the grand idea of baking something for dinner. “I did promise to bake you something special,” Verity reminded her. “It’s just, it’s not only for you. And obviously you’re going to help me bake it…” Demelza laughed, agreeing to lend a hand. Demelza’s skills were far from perfected, and soon Ross’s kitchen was strewn with loose flour and the sound of the two women laughing.

“Oh!” Verity started, a thought occurring to her. “You should go out into Ross’s garden. I don’t know at all what he keeps there, but if there’s anything we can use…”

“What sorts of things should I be looking for?” Demelza asked, obliging. They were making a pot pie, among other things.

“Root vegetables, perhaps herbs. Do you know the look of them?”

“Not at all,” she laughed. “I’ll just bring a bit of each for you to identify, shall I?” Verity agreed, and Demelza traipsed out into the sunshine of Ross’s garden, calling behind her, “Now would be a good time to call Andrew.”

In the garden, Demelza bent over the plants, weeding through the offerings with her hands. Some things were easily recognizable, and she spotted the short patch of earth that seemed reserved for herbs. She hummed happily to herself.

On the far side of the house, Ross pulled up in his car. He caught a flash of red hair, and immediately headed toward Demelza, who worked, oblivious to his presence. He padded softly toward her, and as he came up behind, caught her around the waist and shouted “Boo!”

Demelza squealed in surprise, whirling around, still caught in in his arms. “What do you think you’re _doing_?” she accused loudly, calming a mite and then settling into the arms that encircled her waist. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Creeping in like a tomcat.” Demelza’s eyes were shining. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she told him, feeling all of the frustrations of the day leave her. Ross seemed to sense her prior discomfort, and he held her eyes for a few moments. Then he slowly drew her in for a kiss.  Her hands shot up to tangle in his hair, and Ross responded in kind, leaning her back ever so slightly as his lips attached to hers.

As they pulled apart, he asked, “What were you doing out here?”

“I’m meant to be bringing Verity some things from the garden,” she informed him. “We’re baking.”

“For me?” he asked mockingly.

“For all of us,” she chided him, the light never quite leaving her eyes. “But I’ve no idea what I’m looking at.”

“Me neither,” Ross agreed. He reached down and quickly seized her hand, threading their fingers together. “Let’s go in and ask her.” He made to swing their joined hands to and fro as he pulled her into the house. She giggled, and he turned and placed another kiss squarely on her lips, before resuming their path inside.

The two walked into the kitchen, and Demelza announced, “Look who’s back.”

“Hi, Ross,” Verity greeted cheerily. More cheerily than usual. Which was saying something. Ross seemed to notice, and Demelza noticed Ross noticing, and she squeezed his hand to silence him. Verity pulled some trays from the oven, and Demelza pushed Ross toward the table while she gathered plates from the cupboard.

“You may need to entertain yourself tomorrow,” Verity told Demelza quietly. “I’m…expected in town.”

“Expected?” she asked, grinning. The two giggled.

“What’s so funny over there?” Ross asked.

“Nothing,” they answered in unison. Ross rolled his eyes at them, and the three dug into their appetizers.

Dinner lasted quite a while, with Verity to provide for their ease and comfort. Afterwards, Verity settled on the couch and turned on the news, much to Demelza’s chagrin.

“Ugh, it’s nothing but doom and gloom,” she complained.

“I knoooow,” Verity dragged out the syllable, but defended her choices. “Gotta stay informed, though. Especially with all this post-Brexit nonsense.”

Verity didn’t look like she particularly expected Ross and Demelza to join her on the couch, and so they didn’t. Ross reached down and seized Demelza’s hand, and the two snuck upstairs.

They nonchalantly stepped into Ross’s bedroom and shut the door. Demelza took a glance around. “So this is your bedroom…” she wondered aloud.

“It is,” he rumbled, deep in his throat. He brushed the hair away from her cheek with one hand, smiling down at her. Demelza was smiling up at him, and she tugged at his hand, guiding him to the bed. Ross obliged.

“I was thinking about you all day,” he said against her lips. They sat on the bed, and she attacked his mouth with her lips. She ran her hands up and down his chest, inwardly noting the hard lines of his abs and pec muscles. Ross broke away, stroking the hair near her ear.

“How was your day with Verity?”

“It was good,” she smiled. “We went to Truro and went shopping. Actually,” she added, “we ran into…Mrs. Zachy. Who might have mentioned that _you_ mentioned _me_.” Demelza’s eyes glistened.

“I was excited,” he admitted, before kissing her again. But to Demelza’s disappointment, he disentangled himself. “You seemed sort of upset, though,” he observed, searching her eyes. Demelza held his eyes as he silently urged her to open up. She glanced down, entwining their fingers.

“I sort of ran into my father. And it’s not like I told him I was coming. And then I lied about why I was here to get rid of him.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“I don’t want to think about that right now,” she shook her head. She leaned her body down toward the bed, and Ross followed suit. He nuzzled his nose against hers, and then captured her lower lip with both of his. Demelza’s mouth opened eagerly, and their tongues entangled. Ross moved to pepper kisses along her jaw and neck. He ran his nose, tickling, along her neck. Demelza pulled his mouth back towards hers.

“Kiss me,” she breathed. Ross obliged.

After a while, Ross drew Demelza to his chest and they laid in bed.

“Verity will be wondering where we are…” Ross observed.

“Not that much. Her thoughts are filled with her date tomorrow.”

“What?”

Demelza raised her head from Ross’s chest to look at him. “Yeah, she has a date tomorrow.”

“With who?”

“Some guy she met today in town. Andrew Blamey. Do you know him?”

“I don’t think so.” They fell silent for a moment. Then Ross observed, “So she’ll be gone tomorrow night…”

A moment. Then Demelza raised herself up from Ross’s chest and tangled her legs with his on the bed. She kissed him once, twice, softly, ghosting over his lips. Ross made a groaning sound in his throat, and he rolled over, taking Demelza with him. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his middle as he kissed her hungrily. His hands ran up and down her body, sending shivers down her spine at his touch. Her fingers played with the hem of his shirt and she teased at the skin of his torso. He groaned again. He kissed her desperately, one last time, before he pulled away. He held her eyes, measuring.  Then he brushed his nose against hers and murmured seductively, “Until tomorrow night.”

Emboldened, Demelza swiped her fingers across the skin of his torso again. She hummed. “Tomorrow night.”


End file.
